_The_ LURE OF THE MASK

 _By_ HAROLD MAC GRATH

 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY HARRISON FISHER AND KARL ANDERSON

 INDIANAPOLIS THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY PUBLISHERS COPYRIGHT 1908

 PRESS OF BRAUN WORTH & CO. BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS BROOKLYN, N. Y. 

TOMY FELLOW TRAVELERANDGENTLE CRITIC

CONTENTS

 I THE VOICE IN THE FOG

 II OBJECT, MATRIMONY

 III MADAME ANGOT

 IV BLINDFOLDED

 V THE MASK

 VI INTO THE FOG AGAIN

 VII THE TOSS OF A COIN

 VIII WHAT MERRIHEW FOUND

 IX MRS. SANDFORD WINKS

 X CARABINIERI

 XI THE CITY IN THE SEA

 XII A BOX OF CIGARS

 XIII KITTY ASKS QUESTIONS

 XIV GREY VEILS

 XV MANY NAPOLEONS

 XVI O'MALLY SUGGESTS

 XVII GIOVANNI

 XVIII THE ARIA FROM IL TROVATORE

 XIX TWO GENTLEMEN FROM VERONA

 XX KITTY DROPS A BANDBOX

 XXI AN INVITATION TO A BALL

 XXII TANGLES

 XXIII THE DÉNOUEMENT

 XXIV MEASURE FOR MEASURE

 XXV FREE

 XXVI THE LETTER

 XXVII BELLAGGIO

THE LURE OF THE MASK

CHAPTER I

THE VOICE IN THE FOG

Out of the unromantic night, out of the somber blurring January fog, came a voice lifted in song, a soprano, rich, full and round, young, yetmatured, sweet and mysterious as a night-bird's, haunting and elusive asthe murmur of the sea in a shell: a lilt from _La Fille de MadameAngot_, a light opera long since forgotten in New York. Hillard, genuinely astonished, lowered his pipe and listened. To sit dreaming byan open window, even in this unlovely first month of the year, in thatgrim unhandsome city which boasts of its riches and still accepts withsmug content its rows upon rows of ugly architecture, to sit dreaming, then, of red-tiled roofs, of cloud-caressed hills, of terracedvineyards, of cypresses in their dark aloofness, is not out of thenatural order of things; but that into this idle and pleasant dreamthere should enter so divine a voice, living, feeling, pulsing, this wasnot ordinary at all. 

And Hillard was glad that the room was in darkness. He rose eagerly andpeered out. But he saw no one. Across the street the arc-lamp burneddimly, like an opal in the matrix, while of architectural outlines notone remained, the fog having kindly obliterated them. 

The Voice rose and sank and soared again, drawing nearer and nearer. Itwas joyous and unrestrained, and there was youth in it, the touch ofspring and the breath of flowers. The music was Lecocq's, that is tosay, French; but the tongue was of a country which Hillard knew to bethe garden of the world. Presently he observed a shadow emerge from theyellow mist, to come within the circle of light, which, faint as it was, limned in against the nothingness beyond the form of a woman. She walkeddirectly under his window. 

As the invisible comes suddenly out of the future to assume distinctproportions which either make or mar us, so did this unknown cantatricecome out of the fog that night and enter into Hillard's life, toreadjust its ambitions, to divert its aimless course, to give impetus toit, and a directness which hitherto it had not known. 

"Ah!"

He leaned over the sill at a perilous angle, the bright coal of his pipespilling comet-wise to the area-way below. He was only subconscious ofhaving spoken; but this syllable was sufficient to spoil theenchantment. The Voice ceased abruptly, with an odd break. The singerlooked up. Possibly her astonishment surpassed even that of heraudience. For a few minutes she had forgotten that she was in New York, where romance may be found only in the book-shops; she had forgottenthat it was night, a damp and chill forlorn night; she had forgotten thepain in her heart; there had been only a great and irresistible longingto sing. 

Though she raised her face, he could distinguish no feature, for thelight was behind. However, he was a man who made up his mind quickly. Brunette or blond, beautiful or otherwise, it needed but a moment tofind out. Even as this decision was made he was in the upper hall, taking the stairs two at a bound. He ran out into the night, bareheaded. Up the street he saw a flying shadow. Plainly she had anticipated hisimpulse and the curiosity behind it. Even as he gave chase the shadowmelted in the fog, as ice melts in running waters, as flame dissolves insunshine. She was gone. He cupped his ear with his hand; in vain, therecame no sound as of pattering feet; there was nothing but fog andsilence. 

"Well, if this doesn't beat the Dutch!" he murmured. 

He laughed disappointedly. It did not matter that he was three andthirty; he still retained youth enough to feel chagrined at such atrivial defeat. Here had been something like a genuine adventure, and ithad slipped like water through his clumsy fingers. 

"Deuce take the fog! But for that I'd have caught her. "

But reason promptly asked him what he should have done had he caught thesinger. Yes, supposing he had, what excuse would he have had to offer?Denial on her part would have been simple, and righteous indignation atbeing accosted on the street simpler still. He had not seen her face, and doubtless she was aware of this fact. Thus, she would have had allthe weapons for defense and he not one for attack. But though reasonargued well, it did not dislodge his longing. He would have beenperfectly happy to have braved her indignation for a single glance ather face. He walked back, lighting his pipe. Who could she be? Whatpeculiar whimsical freak had sent her singing past his window at oneo'clock of the morning? A grand opera singer, returning home from a latesupper? But he dismissed this opinion even as he advanced it. He knewsomething about grand opera singers. They attend late suppers, it istrue, but they ride home in luxurious carriages and never risk theirgolden voices in this careless if romantic fashion. And in New Yorknobody took the trouble to serenade anybody else, unless paid in advanceand armed with a police permit. As for being a comic-opera star, herefused to admit the possibility; and he relegated this well-satisfiedconstellation to the darks of limbo. He had heard a Voice. 

A vast, shadow loomed up in the middle of the street, presently to takeupon itself the solid outlines of a policeman who came lumbering over toadd or subtract his quota of interest in the affair. Hillard wiselystopped and waited for him, pulling up the collar of his jacket, as hebegan to note that there was a winter's tang to the fog. 

"Hi, what's all this?" the policeman called out roughly. 

"To what do you refer?" Hillard counter-questioned, puffing. He slippedhis hands into the pockets of his jacket. 

"I heard a woman singin', that's what!" explained the guardian of thelaw. 

"So did I. "

"Oh, you did, huh?"

"Certainly. It is patent that my ears are as good as yours. "

"Huh! See her?"

"For a moment, " Hillard admitted. 

"Well, we can't have none o' this in the streets. It's disorderly. "

"My friend, " said Hillard, rather annoyed at the policeman's tone, "youdon't think for an instant that I was directing this operetta?"

"Think? Where's your hat?"

Hillard ran his hand over his head. The policeman had him here. "I didnot bring it out. "

"Too warm and summery; huh? It don't look good. I've been watchin' theseparts fer a leddy. They call her Leddy Lightfinger; an' she has some O'the gents done to a pulp when it comes to liftin' jools an' trinkets. Somebody fergits to lock the front door, an' she finds it out. Why didyou come out without yer lid?"

"Just forgot it, that's all. "

"Which way'd she go?"

"You'll need a map and a search-light. I started to run after hermyself. I heard a voice from my window; I saw a woman; I made for thestreet; _niente_!"

"Huh?"

"_Niente_, nothing!"

"Oh! I see; Dago. Seems to me now that this woman was singin' I-taly-an, too. " They were nearing the light, and the policeman gazed intently atthe hatless young man. "Why, it's Mr. Hillard! I'm surprised. Well, well! Some day I'll run in a bunch o' these chorus leddies, jes' fer alesson. They git lively at the restaurants over on Broadway, an' thinthey raise the dead with their singin', which, often as not, is anythin'but singin'. An' here it is, after one. "

"But this was not a chorus lady, " replied Hillard, thoughtfully reachinginto his vest for a cigar. 

"Sure, an' how do you know?" with renewed suspicions. 

"The lady had a singing voice. "

"Huh! They all think alike about that. But mebbe she wasn't bad at thebusiness. Annyhow. . . . "

"It was rather out of time and place, eh?" helpfully. 

"That's about the size of it. This Leddy Lightfinger is a case. She hasus all thinkin' on our nights off. Clever an' edjicated, an' jabbers inhalf a dozen tongues. It's a thousan' to the man who jugs her. But shedon't sing; at least, they ain't any report to that effect. Perhaps yourleddy was jes' larkin' a bit. But it's got to be stopped. "

Hillard passed over the cigar, and the policeman bit off the end, nodding with approval at such foresight. The young man then profferedthe coal of his pipe and the policeman took his light therefrom, realizing that after such a peace-offering there was nothing for him todo but move on. Yet on dismal lonesome nights, like this one, it is agodsend and a comfort to hear one's own voice against the darkness. Sohe lingered. 

"Didn't get a peep at her face?"

"Not a single feature. The light was behind her. " Hillard tapped one toeand then the other. 

"An' how was she dressed?"

"In fog, for all I could see. "

"On the level now, didn't you know who she was?" The policeman gaveHillard a sly dig in the ribs with his club. 

"On my word!"

"Some swell, mebbe. "

"Undoubtedly a lady. That's why it looks odd, why it brought me into thestreet. She sang in classic Italian. And what's more, for the privilegeof hearing that voice again, I should not mind sitting on this cold curbtill the milkman comes around in the morning. "

"That wouldn't be fer long, " laughed the policeman, taking out his watchand holding it close to the end of his cigar. "Twenty minutes after one. Well, I must be gittin' back to me beat. An' you'd better be goin' in;it's cold. Good night. "

"Good night, " Hillard responded cheerfully. 

"Say, what's I-taly-an fer good night?" still reluctant to go on. 

"_Buona notte. _"

"Bony notty; huh, sounds like Chinese fer rheumatism. Been to Italy?"

"I was born there, " patiently. 

"No! Why, you're no Dago!"

"Not so much as an eyelash. The stork happened to drop the basket there, that's all. "

"Ha! I see. Well, Ameriky is good enough fer me an' mine, " complacently. 

"I dare say!"

"An' if this stogy continues t' behave, we'll say no more about thevanishin' leddy. " And with this the policeman strolled off into the fog, his suspicions in nowise removed. He knew many rich young bachelors likeHillard. If it wasn't a chorus lady, it was a prima donna, which was notfar in these degenerate days from being the same thing. 

Hillard regained his room and leaned with his back to the radiator. Hehad an idea. It was rather green and salad, but as soon as his handswere warm he determined to put this idea into immediate use. The Voicehad stirred him deeply, stirred him with the longing to hear it again, to see the singer's face, to learn what extraordinary impulse had loosedthe song. Perhaps it was his unspoken loneliness striving to call outagainst this self-imposed isolation; for he was secretly lonely, as allbachelors must be who have passed the Rubicon of thirty. He made noanalysis of this new desire, or rather this old desire, newly awakened. He embraced it gratefully. Such is the mystery and power of the humanvoice: this one, passing casually under his window, had awakened him. 

Never the winter came with its weary round of rain and fog and snow thathis heart and mind did not fly over the tideless southern sea to theland of his birth if not of his blood. Sorrento, that jewel of the ruddyclifts! There was fog outside his window, and yet how easy it was topicture the turquoise bay of Naples shimmering in the morning light!There was Naples itself, like a string of its own pink coral, lyingcrescent-wise on the distant strand; there were the snowcaps fading onthe far horizon; the bronzed fishermen and their wives, a sheer twohundred feet below him, pulling in their glistening nets; the amethystisles of Capri and Ischia eternally hanging midway between the blue ofthe sky and the blue of the sea; and there, towering menacingly aboveall this melting beauty, the dark, grim pipe of Vulcan. How easily, indeed, he could see all these things!

With a quick gesture of both hands, Latin, always Latin, he crossed theroom to a small writing-desk, turned on the lights and sat down. Hesmiled as he took up the pen to begin his composition. Not one chance ina thousand. And after several attempts he realized that the letter hehad in mind was not the simplest to compose. There were a dozen futileefforts before he produced anything like satisfaction. Then he filledout a small check. A little later he stole down-stairs, round the cornerto the local branch of the post-office, and returned. It was only ablind throw, such as dicers sometimes make in the dark. But chance lovesher true gamester, and to him she makes a faithful servant. 

"I should be sorely tempted, " he mused, picking up a novel and selectinga comfortable angle in the Morris, "I should be sorely tempted to callany other man a silly ass. Leddy Lightfinger--it would be a fine joke ifmy singer turned out to be that irregular person. "

He fell to reading, but it was not long before he yawned. He shied thebook into a corner, drew off his boots and cast them into the hall. Amoment after his valet appeared, gathered up the boots, tucked themunder his arm, and waited. 

"I want nothing, Giovanni. I have only been around to the post-office. "

"I heard the door open and close four times, signore. "

"It was I each time. If this fog does not change into rain, I shall wantmy riding-breeches to-morrow morning. "

"It is always raining here, " Giovanni remarked sadly. 

"Not always; there are pleasant days in the spring and summer. It isbecause this is not Italy. The Hollander wonders how any reasonablebeing can dwell in a country where they do not drink gin. It's home, Giovanni; rain pelts you from a different angle here. There is nothingmore; you may go. It is two o'clock, and you are dead for sleep. "

But Giovanni only bowed; he did not stir. 

"Well?" inquired his master. 

"It is seven years now, signore. "

"So it is; seven this coming April. "

"I am now a citizen of this country; I obey its laws; I vote. "

"Yes, Giovanni, you are an American citizen, and you should be proud ofit. "

Giovanni smiled. "I may return to my good Italia without danger. "

"That depends. If you do not run across any official who recognizesyou. "

Giovanni spread his hands. "Official memory seldom lasts so long asseven years. The signore has crossed four times in this period. "

"I would gladly have taken you each time, as you know. "

"Oh, yes! But in two or three years the police do not forget. In sevenit is different. "

"Ah!" Hillard was beginning to understand the trend of thisconversation. "So, then, you wish to return?"

"Yes, signore. I have saved a little money, " modestly. 

"A little?" Hillard laughed. "For seven years you have received fiftyAmerican dollars every month, and out of it you do not spend as manycopper centesimi. I am certain that you have twenty thousand lire tuckedaway in your stocking; a fortune!"

"I buy the blacking for the signore's boots, " gravely. 

Hillard saw the twinkle in the black eyes. "I have never, " he saidtruthfully, "asked you to black my boots. "

"Penance, signore, penance for my sins; and I am not without gratitude. There was a time when I had rather cut off a hand than black a boot; butall that is changed. We of the Sabine Hills are proud, as the signoreknows. We are Romans out there; we despise the cities; and we do nothold out our palms for the traveler's pennies. I am a peasant, butalways remember the blood of the Cæsars. Who can say? Besides, I haveheld a sword for the church. I owe no allegiance to the puny House ofSavoy!" There was no twinkle in the black eyes now; there was aferocious gleam. It died away quickly, however; the squared shouldersdrooped, and there was a deprecating shrug. "Pardon, signore; this isfar away from the matter of boots. I grow boastful; I am an old man andshould know better. But does the signore return to Italy in the spring?"

"I don't know, Giovanni, I don't know. But what's on your mind?"

"Nothing new, signore, " with eyes cast down to hide the returninglights. 

"You are a bloodthirsty ruffian!" said Hillard shortly. "Will time neversoften the murder in your heart?"

"I am as the good God made me. I have seen through blood, and time cannot change that. Besides, the Holy Father will do something for one whofought for the cause. "

"He will certainly not countenance bloodshed, Giovanni. "

"He can absolve it. And as you say, I am rich, as riches go in theSabine Hills. "

"I was in hopes you had forgotten. "

"Forgotten? The signore will never understand; it is his father's blood. She was so pretty and youthful, eye of my eye, heart of my heart! Andinnocent! She sang like the nightingale. She was always happy. Up withthe dawn, to sleep with the stars. We were alone, she and I. The sheepsupported me and she sold her roses and dried lavender. It was all sobeautiful . . . Till he came. Ah, had he loved her! But a plaything, apastime! The signore never had a daughter. What is she now? A namelessthing in the streets!" Giovanni raised his arms tragically; the hootsclattered to the floor. "Seven years! It is a long time for one of myblood to wait. "

"Enough!" cried Hillard; but there was a hardness in his throat at thesight of the old man's tears. Where was the proud and stately man, theblack-bearded shepherd in faded blue linen, in picturesque garters, withhis reed-like pipe, that he, Hillard, had known in his boyhood days?Surely not here. Giovanni had known the great wrong, but Hillard couldnot in conscience's name foster the spirit which demanded an eye for aneye. So he said: "I can give you only my sympathy for your loss, but Iabhor the spirit of revenge which can not find satisfaction in anythingsave murder. "

Giovanni once more picked up the boots. "I shall leave the signore inthe spring. "

"As you please, " said Hillard gently. 

Giovanni bowed gravely and made off with his boots. Hillard remainedstaring thoughtfully at the many-colored squares in the rug under hisfeet. It would be lonesome with Giovanni gone. The old man had evidentlymade up his mind. . . . But the Woman with the Voice, would she see thenotice in the paper? And if she did, would she reply to it? What afoundation for a romance!. . . Bah! He prepared for bed. 

To those who reckon earthly treasures as the only thing worth having, John Hillard was a fortunate young man. That he was without kith or kinwas considered by many as an additional piece of good fortune. Born inSorrento, in one of the charming villas which sweep down to the verybrow of the cliffs, educated in Rome up to his fifteenth year; taken atthat age from the dreamy, drifting land and thrust into the noisy, bustling life which was his inheritance; fatherless and motherless attwenty; a college youth who was for ever mixing his Italian with hisEnglish and being laughed at; hating tumult and loving quiet;warm-hearted and impulsive, yet meeting only habitual reserve from hiscompatriots whichever way he turned; it is not to be wondered at that hepreferred the land of his birth to that of his blood. 

All this might indicate an artistic temperament, the ability to do pettythings grandly; but Hillard had escaped this. He loved his Raphaels, hisTitians, his Veroneses, his Rubenses, without any desire to makeindifferent copies of them; he admired his Dante, his Petrarch, hisGoldoni, without the wish to imitate them. He was full of sentimentwithout being sentimental, a poet who thought but never indited verses. His father's blood was in his veins, that is to say, the salt ofrestraint; thus, his fortune grew and multiplied. The strongest andreddest corpuscle had been the gift of his mother. She had left him thelegacy of loving all beautiful things in moderation, the legacy ofgentleness, of charity, of strong loves and frank hatreds, of humor, ofliving out in the open, of dreaming great things and accomplishing noneof them. 

The old house in which he lived was not in the fashionable quarter ofthe town; but that did not matter. Nor did it vary externally from anyof its unpretentious neighbors. Inside, however, there were treasurespriceless and unique. There was no woman in the household; he mightsmoke in any room he pleased. A cook, a butler, and a valet were thesum-total of his retinue. In appearance he resembled many anotherclean-cut, clean-living American gentleman. 

Giovanni sought his own room at the end of the hall, squatted on a lowstool and solemnly began the business of blacking his master's boots. Hewas still as lean and tall as a Lombardy poplar, this handsome oldRoman. His hair was white; there was now no black beard on his face, which was as brown and creased as Spanish levant; and some of thefullness was gone from his chest and arms; but for all that he carriedhis fifty-odd years lightly. He worked swiftly to-night, but his mindwas far away from his task. 

There was a pitiful story, commonplace enough. A daughter, aloose-living officer, a knife flung from a dark alley, and sudden flightto the south. Hillard had found him wandering through the streets ofNaples, hiding from the _carabinieri_ as best he could. Hillardcontrived to smuggle him on the private yacht of a friend. He found apeasant who was reconsidering the advisability of digging sewers andlaying railroad ties in the Eldorado of the West. A few pieces ofsilver, and the passport changed hands. With this Giovanni blandly liedhis way into the United States. After due time he applied forcitizenship, and through Hillard's influence it was accorded him. Hesolemnly voted when elections came round, and hoarded his wages, likethe thrifty man he was. Some day he would return to Rome, or Naples, orVenice, or Florence, as the case might be; and then!

When the boots shone flawlessly, he carried them to Hillard's door andsoftly tiptoed back. He put his face against the cold window. He, too, had heard the Voice. How his heart hurt him with its wild hope! But onlyfor a moment. It was not the voice he hungered for. The words wereItalian, but he knew that the woman who sang them was not!

CHAPTER II

OBJECT, MATRIMONY

Winter fogs in New York are never quite so intolerable as theircounterparts in London; and while their frequency is a matter ofcomplaint, their duration is seldom of any length. So, by the morrow astrong wind from the west had winnowed the skies and cleared the sun. There was an exhilarating tingle of frost in the air and a visible rimeon the windows. Hillard, having breakfasted lightly, was standing withhis back to the grate in the cozy breakfast-room. He was in boots andbreeches and otherwise warmly clad, and freshly shaven. He rocked on hisheels and toes, and ran his palm over his blue-white chin in search of apossible slip of the razor. 

Giovanni came in to announce that he had telephoned, and that thesignore's brown mare would be at the park entrance precisely athalf-after eight. Giovanni still marveled over this wonderful voicewhich came out of nowhere, but he was no longer afraid of it. Thecuriosity which is innate and child-like in all Latins soon overcame hisdark superstitions. He was an ardent Catholic and believed that a fewmiracles should be left in the hands of God. The telephone had nowbecome a kind of plaything, and Hillard often found him in front of it, patiently waiting for the bell to ring. 

The facility with which Giovanni had mastered English amazed his teacherand master; but now he needed no more lessons, the two when alonetogether spoke Giovanni's tongue: Hillard, because he loved it, andGiovanni because the cook spoke it badly and the English butler not atall. 

"You have made up your mind to go, then, _amico_?" said Hillard. 

"Yes, signore. "

"Well, I shall miss you. To whom shall I talk the tongue I love so well, when Giovanni is gone?" with a lightness which he did not feel. Hillardhad grown very fond of the old Roman in these seven years. 

"Whenever the signore goes to Italia, he shall find me. It needs but aword to bring me to him. The signore will pardon me, but he islike--like a son. "

"Thanks, Giovanni. By the way, did you hear a woman singing in thestreet last night?"

"Yes. At first--" Giovanni hesitated. 

"Ah, but that could not be, Giovanni; that could not be. "

"No, it could not be. But she sang well!" the old servant ventured. 

"So thought I. I even ran out into the street to find out who she was;but she vanished like the lady in the conjurer's trick. But it seemed tome that, while she sang in Italian, she herself was not wholly of thatrace. "

"_Buonissima!_" Giovanni struck a noiseless brava with his hands. "HaveI not always said that the signore's ears are as sharp as my own? No, the voice was very beautiful, but it was not truly Roman. It was morelike they talk in Venice. And yet the sound of the voice decided me. Thehills have always been calling to me; and I must answer. "

"And the unforgetting _carabinieri_?"

"Oh, I must take my chance, " with the air of a fatalist. 

"What shall you do?"

"I have my two hands, signore. Besides, the signore has said it; I amrich. " Giovanni permitted a smile to stir his thin lips. "Yes, I must goback. Your people have been good to me and have legally made me one ofthem, but my heart is never here. It is always so cold and every onemoves so quickly. You can not lie down in the sun. Your police, bah!They beat you on the feet. You remember when I fell asleep on the stepsof the cathedral? They thought I was drunk, and would have arrested me!"

"Everybody must keep moving here; it is the penalty of being rich. "

"And I am lonesome for my kind. I have nothing in common with theseherds of Sicilians and Neapolitans who pour into the streets from thewharves. " Giovanni spoke scornfully. 

"Yet in war time the Neapolitans sheltered your pope. "

"Vanity! They wished to make an impression on the rest of the world. Itis dull here, besides. There is no joy in the shops. I am lost in thesegreat palaces. The festa is lacking. Nobody bargains; nobody sees theproprietor; you find your way to the streets alone. The butcher saysthat his meat is so-and-so, and you pay; the grocer marks his tinssuch-and-such, and you do not question; and the baker says that, and youpay, pay, pay! What? I need a collar; it is _quindici_--fifteen you say!I offer _quattordici_. I would give interest to the sale. But no! Thecollar goes back into the box. I pay _quindici_, or I go without. It isthe same everywhere; very dull, dead, lifeless. "

Hillard was moved to laughter. He very well understood the old man'slament. In Italy, if there is one thing more than another that pleasesthe native it is to make believe to himself that he has got the betterof a bargain. A shrewd purchase enlivens the whole day; it is talkedabout, laughed over, and becomes the history of the day that Tomass', orPietro, or Paoli, or whatever his name may be, has bested the merchantout of some twenty centesimi. 

"And the cook and the butler, " concluded Giovanna; "we do not get onwell. "

"It is because they are in mortal fear of you, you brigand! Well, mycoat and cap. "

Hillard presently left the house and hailed a Fifth Avenue omnibus. Helooked with negative interest at the advertisements, at the people inthe streets, at his fellow-travelers. One of these was hidden behind hismorning paper. _Personals. _ Hillard squirmed a little. The world neverholds very much romance in the sober morning. What a stupid piece offolly! The idea of his sending that personal inquiry to the paper!To-morrow he would see it sandwiched in between samples of shop-girlromance, questionable intrigues, and divers search-warrants. Ye gods!"Will the blonde who smiled at gentleman in blue serge, elevated train, Tuesday, meet same in park? Object, matrimony. " Hillard fidgeted. "Youngman known as Adonis would adore stout elderly lady, independentlysituated. Object, matrimony. " Pish! "Girlie. Can't keep appointmentto-night. Willie. " Tush! "A French Widow of eighteen, unencumbered, " andso forth and so on. Rot, bally rot; and here he was on the way to jointhem! "Will the lady who sang from _Madame Angot_ communicate withgentleman who leaned out of the window? J. H. Burgomaster Club. "Positively asinine! The man opposite folded the paper and stuffed itinto his pocket, and its disappearance relieved Hillard somewhat. 

There was scarce one chance in a thousand of the mysterious singer'sseeing the inquiry, not one in ten thousand of her answering it. And thefolly of giving his club address! That would look very dignified inyonder agony column! And then he brightened. He could withdraw it; andhe would do so the very first thing when he went down-town to theoffice. "Object, matrimony!" If the woman saw it she would only laugh. It was all a decent woman could do. And certainly the woman of the pastnight's adventure was of high degree, educated; and doubtless the spiritwhich had prompted the song was as inexplicable to her this morning asit had been to him last night. He had lost none of the desire to meether, but reason made it plain to him that a meeting could not possiblybe arranged through any personal column in the newspaper. He wouldcancel the thing. 

He dropped from the omnibus at the park entrance, where he found hisrestive mare. He gave her a lump of sugar and climbed into the saddle. He directed the groom to return for the horse at ten o'clock, thenheaded for the bridle-path. It was heavy, but the air was so keen andbracing that neither the man nor the horse worried about the going. There were a dozen or so early riders besides himself, and in and outthe winding path they passed and repassed, walking, trotting, cantering. Only one party attracted him: a riding master and a trio of brokers whowere verging on embonpoint, and were desperate and looked it. They stoodin a fair way of losing several pounds that morning. A good rider alwayssmiles at the sight of a poor one, when a little retrospection shouldmake him rather pitying. Hillard went on. The park was not lovely; thetrees were barren, the grass yellow and sodden, and here and there weregrimy cakes of unmelted snow. 

"She is so innocent, so youthful!"

He found himself humming the refrain over and over. She had sung it withabandon, tenderness, lightness. For one glimpse of her face! He took therise and dip which followed. Perhaps a hundred yards ahead a solitarywoman cantered easily along. Hillard had not seen her before. He spurredforward, only faintly curious. She proved to be a total stranger. Therewas nothing familiar to his eye in her figure, which was charming. Sherode well. As he drew nearer he saw that she wore a heavy grey veil. Andthis veil hid everything but the single flash of a pair of eyes thecolor of which defied him. Then he looked at her mount. Ha! there wasonly one rangy black with a white throat; from the Sandford stables, hewas positive. But the Sandfords were at this moment in Cairo, so itsignified nothing. There is always some one ready to exercise yourhorses, if they happen to be showy ones. He looked again at the rider;the flash of the eyes was not repeated; so his interest vanished, and heurged the mare into a sharp run. Twice in the course of the ride hepassed her, but her head never turned. He knew it did not because heturned to see. 

So he went back to his tentative romance. She had passed his window anddisappeared into the fog, and there was a reasonable doubt of her everreturning from it. The Singer in the Fog; thus he would write it down inhis book of memories and sensibly turn the page. Once down-town he wouldcountermand his order, and that would be the end of it. At length hecame back to the entrance and surrendered the mare. He was about tocross the square, when he was hailed. 

"Hello, Jack! I say, Hillard!"

Hillard wheeled and saw Merrihew. He, too, was in riding-breeches. 

"Why, Dan, glad to see you. Were you in the park?"

"Riverside. Beastly cold, too. Come into the Plaza and join me in a cupof good coffee. "

"Had breakfast long ago, boy. "

"Oh, just one cup! I'm lonesome. "

"That's no inducement; but I'll join you, " replied Hillard cheerfully. 

The two entered the café, sat down, and Merrihew ordered Mocha. 

"How are you behaving yourself these days?" asked Merrihew. He drankmore coffee and smoked more cigars than were good for him. He was alwaysgoing to start in next week to reduce the quantity. 

"My habits are always exemplary, " answered Hillard. "But yours?"

Merrihew's face lengthened. He pulled the yellow hair out of his eyesand gulped his coffee. 

"Kitty Killigrew leaves in two weeks for Europe. "

"And who the deuce is Kitty Killigrew?" demanded Hillard. 

"What?" reproachfully. "You haven't heard of Kitty Killigrew in _TheModern Maid_? Where've you been? Pippin! Prettiest soubrette that's hitthe town in a dog's age. "

"I say, Dan, don't you ever tire of that sort? I can't recall when therewasn't a Kitty Killigrew. What's the attraction?" Hillard waved asidethe big black cigar. "No heavy tobacco for me in the morning. What's theattraction?"

Merrihew touched off a match, applied it to the black cigar, took thecigar from his teeth and inspected the glowing end critically. He neverfailed to go through this absurd pantomime; he would miss a train ratherthan omit it. 

"The truth is, Jack, I'm a jackass half the time. I can't get away fromthe glamour of the footlights. I'm no Johnny; you know that. No hanginground stage-entrances and buying wine and diamonds. I might be recklessenough to buy a bunch of roses, when I'm not broke. But I like 'em, thebright ones. They keep a fellow amused. Most of 'em speak good Englishand come from better families than you would suppose. Just goodfellowship, you know; maybe a rabbit and a bottle of beer after theperformance, or a little quarter limit at the apartment, singing andgood stories. What you've in mind is the chorus-lady. Not for mine!"

Hillard laughed, recalling his conversation with the policeman. 

"Go on, " he said; "get it all out of your system, now that you'restarted. "

"And then it tickles a fellow's vanity to be seen with them at therestaurants. That's the way it begins, you know. I'll be perfectly frankwith you. If it wasn't for what the other fellows say, most of thechorus-ladies would go hungry. And the girls that you and I know thinkI'm a devil of a fellow, wicked but interesting, and all that. "

Hillard's laughter broke forth again, and he leaned back. Merrihew wouldalways be twenty-six, he would always be youthful. 

"And this Kitty Killigrew? I believe I've seen posters of her in thewindows, now that you speak of it. "

"Well, Jack, I've got it bad this trip. I offered to marry her lastnight. "

"What!"

"Truth. And what do you think? Dropped me very neatly two thousand feet, but softly. And I was serious, too. "

"It seems to me that your Kitty is not half bad. What would you havedone had she accepted you?"

"Married her within twenty-four hours!"

"Come, Dan, be sensible. You are not such an ass as all that. "

"Yes, I am, " moodily. "I told you that I was a jackass half the time;this is the half. "

"But she won't have you?"

"Not for love or money. "

"Are you sure about the money?" asked Hillard shrewdly. 

"Seven hundred or seven thousand, it wouldn't matter to Kitty if shemade up her mind to marry a fellow. What's the matter with me, anyhow?I'm not so badly set-up; I can whip any man in the club at my weight; Ican tell a story well; and I'm not afraid of anything. "

"Not even of the future!" added Hillard. 

"Do you really think it's my money?" pathetically. 

"Well, seven thousand doesn't go far, and that's all you have. If itwere seventy, now, I'm not sure Kitty wouldn't reconsider. "

Merrihew ran his tongue along the cigar wrapper which had loosened. Hehad seven thousand a year, and every January first saw him shouldering athousand odd dollars' worth of last year's debts. Somehow, no matter howhe retrenched, he never could catch up. It's hard to pay for a horseafter one has ridden it to death, and Merrihew was always paying fordead horses. He sighed. 

"What's she like?" asked Hillard, with more sympathy than curiosity. 

Merrihew drew out his watch and opened the case. It was a pretty face;more than that, it was a refined prettiness. The eyes were merry, thebrow was intelligent, the nose and chin were good. Altogether, it wasthe face of a merry, kindly little soul, one such as would be mostlikely to trap the wandering fancy of a young man like Merrihew. 

"And she won't have you, " Hillard repeated, this time with morecuriosity than sympathy. 

"Oh, she's no fool, I suppose. Honest Injun, Jack, it's so bad that Ifind myself writing poetry on the backs of envelopes. And now she'sgoing to Europe!"

"London?"

"No. Some manager has the idea in his head that there is money to bemade in Italy and Germany during the spring and summer. Americancomic-opera in those countries; can you imagine it? He has an angel, andI suppose money is no object. "

"This angel, then, has cut out a fine time for his bank account, andhe'll never get back to heaven, once he gets tangled up in foreignred-tape. Every large city in Italy and Germany has practically its ownopera troupe. In full season it is grand opera, out of season it iscomic-opera, not the American kind; _Martha_, _The Bohemian Girl_, _TheMascotte_, _The Grand Duchess_, and the like. And oh! my boy, thehomeliest chorus you ever dreamed of seeing; but they can sing. It'sonly the ballerina who must have looks and figure. Poor angel! Tell yourKitty to strike for a return ticket to America before she leaves. "

"You think it's as bad as that?"

"Look on me as a prophet of evil, if you like, but truthful. "

"I'll see that Kitty gets her ticket. " Merrihew snapped the case of hiswatch and drew his legs from under the table. "I lost a hundred lastnight, too. "

"After that I suppose nothing worse can happen, " said Hillard cheerily. "You will play, for all my advice. "

"It's better to give than receive . . . That, " replied Merrihewphilosophically. "I've a good mind to follow the company. I've alwayshad a hankering to beat it up at Monte Carlo. A last throw, eh? Win orlose, and quit. I might. "

"And then again you mightn't. But the next time I go to Italy, I wantyou to go with me. You're good company, and for the pleasure oflistening to your jokes I'll gladly foot the bills, and you may gambleyour letter of credit to your heart's content. I must be off. Who isriding the Sandfords' black?"

"Haven't noticed. What do you think of Kitty?"

"Charming. "

"And the photo isn't a marker. "

"Possibly not. "

"Lord, if I could only hibernate for three months, like a bear! Mycapital might then readjust itself, if left alone that length of time. Jack, why the deuce haven't I a relation I never heard of, who wouldpolitely die to-morrow and leave me that beggarly thousand? I'm notasking for much. The harder I chase it, the faster it runs ahead. "Merrihew thwacked his boots soundly with his crop. 

"Some day I'm going to enter that thousand in the Suburban handicap. Andwon't there be a killing!"

"It wouldn't do you any good to borrow it?"

"In that case I should owe two thousand instead of one. No, thank you. Shall I see you at the club to-night?"

"Perhaps. Good-by. "

They nodded pleasantly and took their separate ways. Merrihew stood veryhigh in Hillard's regard. He was a lovable fellow, and there wassomething kindred in his soul and Hillard's, possibly the spirit ofromance. They had met years before, at a commencement, Merrihew in hismortar-board and gown and Hillard as an old graduate, renewing his youthat the fountains. What drew them together, perhaps more than anythingelse, was their mutual love of out-door pleasures. Their first meetingwas followed by many hunting and fishing expeditions, and many longrides on horseback. Take two men and put them on good horses, send themforth into the wilds to face all conditions of weather andinconveniences, and if they are not fast friends at the end of thejourney, rest assured that they never will be. 

For all his aversion to cards, there was a bit of the gamester inHillard; as, once in his office, he decided on the fall of a coin not towithdraw his personal from the paper. He was quite positive that hewould never hear that Voice again, but having thrown his dice he wouldlet them lie. 

Now, at eleven o'clock that same morning two distinguished Italians satdown to breakfast in one of the fashionable hotels. The one nor theother had ever heard of Hillard, they did not even know that such aperson existed; and yet, serenely unconscious, one was casting hislife-line, as the palmist would say, across Hillard's. The knots andtangles were to come later. 

"The coffee in this country is abominable!" growled one. 

"Insufferable!" assented his companion. 

The waiter smiled covertly behind his hand. He had a smattering of alltongues, being foreign born. These Italians and these Germans! Why, there is only one place in the world where both the aroma and the flavorof coffee are preserved; and it is not, decidedly not, in Italy orGermany. And if his tip exceeded ten cents, he would be vastlysurprised. The Italian is always the same, prince or peasant. He neverwastes on necessities a penny which can be applied to the gaming-tables. And these two were talking about Monte Carlo and Ostend and the German_Kursaalen_. 

The younger of the two was a very handsome man, tall, slender andnervous, the Venetian type. His black eyes were keen and energetic androving, suggesting a temper less calculating than hasty. The mouth, partly hidden under a graceful military mustache, was thin-lipped, themouth of a man who, however great his vices, was always master of them. From his right cheek-bone to the corner of his mouth ran a scar, verywell healed. Instead of detracting from the beauty of his face it addeda peculiar fascination. And the American imagination, always receptiveof the romantic, might readily and forgivably have pictured villas, maids in durance vile, and sword-thrusts under the moonlight. But thewaiter, who had served his time in one or another of the foreign armies, knew that no foil or rapier could have made such a scar; more probablythe saber. For the Italian officer on horseback is the maddest of allmen, and in the spirit of play courts hazards that another man mightsensibly avoid in actual warfare. 

His companion was less handsome but equally picturesque. His white headand iron-grey beard placed him outside the active army. He wore in hisbuttonhole a tiny bow of ribbon, the usual badge of the foreign service. 

"I'm afraid, Enrico, that you have brought me to America on a uselessadventure, " said the diplomat, lighting a thin, strong cigarette. 

"She is here in New York, and I shall find her. I must have money, must!I owe you the incredible amount of one hundred thousand lire. There aremillions under my hand, and I can not touch a penny. "

"Do not let your debt to me worry you. "

"You are so very good, Giuseppe!"

"Have we not grown up together? Sometimes I think I am partly to blamefor your extravagance. But a friend is a friend, or he is not. "

"But he who borrows from his friend, loses him. Observe how I am placed!It is maddening. I have had a dozen opportunities to marry riches. Thismillstone is eternally round my neck. I have gone through my part of thefortune which was left us independently. She has all of hers, and thatis why she is so strong. I am absolutely helpless. "

"Poor friend! These American women! They all believe that a man musthave no peccadillos, once he has signed the marriage contract. Body ofBacchus! the sacrament does not make a man less human than he wasbefore. But this one is clever. She might be Italian born. "

"Her mother was Italian. It is the schooling in this country that hasmade her so clever. The only thing Italian about her is her hatred. Sheis my countrywoman there. Without her consent I can touch nothing; andif I divorce her, pouff! all goes to the State. Sometimes I long to getmy two hands round her white throat. One mistake, one little mistake! Iam willing to swear that she loved me in the beginning. And I was a foolnot to profit by this sentiment. Give me patience, patience. If I say toher, so much and you may have your freedom, there is always that cursedwill. The crown of Italy will never withdraw its hand; no. With hiswife's family on his hands, especially her brother, the king will neverwaive his rights. "

"Zut! softly, softly!"

"Oh, I speak with no disrespect. But let me find her. "

"I doubt it. And remember, we have but ten days. "

"We shall not find time heavy. I know a few rich butchers and grocerswho call themselves the aristocracy. "

They laughed. 

"And some of them play bridge and écarté. "

The diplomat jingled his keys. He was not averse to adding a few goldpieces to his purse. 

"I have followed her step by step to the boat at Naples. She is here. She is not so inconspicuous that she will be hard to find. She haswealthy friends, and from these I shall learn her whereabouts. "

"You say she is beautiful; I would that I had seen her. "

"Yes, she is beautiful; and a beautiful woman can not hide, even in acity so big and noisy as this. Think of it! Châteaux and villas andsplendid rents, all waiting to be gormandized by the State! I have liedto her, I have humiliated myself, I have offered all the reparation agentleman possibly could. Nothing, nothing! She knows; it is money, andshe knows it is money. The American native shrewdness! My father was afool and so was hers. And on July first comes the end! Let us get outinto the air before I become excited and forget where I am. "

"As you wish, _amico_. " The diplomat beckoned to the waiter. 

The waiter stepped forward with the coats and hats. His tip was exactlyten cents, and out of this the head waiter must have his percentage. 

Three nights later, as Hillard and Merrihew were dining together at theclub, the steward came into the grill-room and swept his placid eye overthe groups of diners. Singling out Hillard, he came solemnly down to thecorner table and laid a blue letter at the side of Hillard's plate. 

"I did not see you when you came in, sir, " said the steward, his voiceas solemn as his step. "The letter arrived yesterday. "

"Thank you, Thomas. " With no small difficulty Hillard composed his faceand repressed the eagerness in his eyes. She had seen, she had written, the letter lay under his hand! Who said that romance had taken flight?True, the reading of the letter might disillusion him; but always wouldthere be that vision and the voice coming out of the fog. Nonchalantlyhe turned the letter face downward and went on with the meal. 

"I did not know that your mail came to the club, " said Merrihew. 

"It doesn't. Only rarely a letter drifts this way. "

"Well, go on and read it; don't let me keep you from it. Some charmer, I'll wager. Here I pour all my adventures into your ear, and I on myside never so much as get a hint of yours. Go on, read it. "

"Adventures, fiddlesticks! The letter can wait. It is probably a bill. "

"A bill in a fashionable envelope like that?"

Hillard only smiled, tipped the cradle and refilled Merrihew's glasswith some excellent Romanee Conti. "When does Kitty sail?" he asked, after a while of silence. 

"A week from this Saturday, February second. What the deuce did youbring up that for? I've been trying to forget it. "

"Where do they land?"

"Naples. They open in Rome the first week in March. All the arrangementsand bookings seem to be complete. This is mighty good Burgundy, Jack. Idon't see where you pick it up. " After coffee Merrihew pushed back hischair. "I'll reserve a table in the billiard-room while you read yourletter. "

"I'll be with you shortly, " gratefully. 

So, with the inevitable black cigar between his teeth, Merrihewsauntered off toward the billiard-room, while Hillard picked up hisletter and studied it. His fingers trembled slightly as he tore open theenvelope. The handwriting, the paper, the modest size, all these pointedto a woman of culture and refinement. But a subtle spirit of ironypervaded it all. She would never have answered his printed inquiry hadshe not laughed over it. For, pinned to the top of the letter was theclipping, the stupid, banal clipping--"Will the lady who sang from_Madame Angot_ communicate with gentleman who leaned out of the window?J. H. Burgomaster Club. " There was neither a formal beginning nor aformal ending; only four crisp lines. But these implied one thing, anddistinctly: the writer had no desire for further communication "withgentleman who leaned out of the window. " He read and re-read slowly. 

 I am sorry to learn that my singing disturbed you. There was a reason. At that partic- ular moment I was happy. 

That was all. It was enough. She had laughed; she was a lady humorouslyinclined, not to say mischievous. A comic-opera star would have sent herpress agent round to see what advertising could be got out of theincident; a prima donna would have appealed to her primo tenore, for thesame purpose. A gentlewoman, surely; moreover, she lived within theradius, the official radius of the Madison Square branch of thepost-office, for such was the postmark. Common sense urged him todismiss the whole affair and laugh over it as the Lady in the Fog haddone. But common sense often goes about with a pedant's strut, and issomething to avoid on occasions. Here was a harmless pastime to pursue, common sense notwithstanding. The vein of romance in him was strong, andall the commercial blood of his father could not subjugate it. To findout who she was, to meet her, to know her, if possible, this was hisfinal determination. He rang for paper and a messenger, and wrote:"Madame Angot. There is a letter for you in the mail-department of thisoffice. " This time his initials were not necessary. Once the message wason its way, he sought Merrihew, whom he found knocking the balls aboutin a spiritless manner. 

"A hundred to seventy-five, Dan. "

"For what?"

"For the mere fun of the game, of course. "

"Make it cigars, just to add interest. "

"Cigars, then. "

But they both played a very indifferent game. At ten-thirty Merrihew'seyes began to haunt the clock, and Hillard grew merciful for variousreasons. 

"What time does the performance end?" he asked. 

"At ten-fifty, but it takes about twenty minutes to scrape off themake-up. "

"Run along, then, my son; I can spare you. And you've a cigar coming. "

Merrihew agreeably put his cue in the rack. 

"Much obliged for the dinner, Jack. I'll return the favor any night yousay. " He made off for the coat-room. 

Hillard laughed, and went up to the writing-room to fulfil a part of hisdestiny. He took the letter out and read it again. A woman of wit andpresence; a mighty good dinner companion, or he was no judge of women. He replaced the letter in its blue covering, and then for the first timehis eye met the superscription. Like a man entranced he sat therestaring. The steward had brought the letter to him, and in his firstexcitement this had made no impression upon his mind; he had seennothing peculiar nor strange. And here it was, not his initials, but hisname in full. 

She knew who he was!

CHAPTER III

MADAME ANGOT

In a fashionable quarter of the city there stood a brownstone house, with grotesque turrets, winding steps, and glaring polished red tiles. There was a touch of the Gothic, of the Renaissance, of the old Englishmanor; just a touch, however, a kind of blind-man's-buff of a house. Avery rich man lived here, but for ten months in the year he and hisfamily fluttered about the social centers of the world. And with a houselike this on his hands, one could scarce blame him. Twice a week, duringthis absence, a caretaker came in, flourished a feather duster, and wentaway again. Society reporters always referred to this house as "thepalatial residence. "

This morning a woman stood in the alcove-window and looked down into theglistening street. There was a smile on her lips, in her eyes, in thetemporary little wrinkles on either side of her nose. The Venetian redof her hair trapped the reflected sunlight from the opposite windows, and two little points of silver danced in her blue eyes. Ah! but hereyes were blue; blue as spring-water in the morning, blue as the summersky seen through a cleft in the mountains, blue as lapis-lazuli, withthe same fibers of gold. And every feature and contour of the faceharmonized with the marvelous hair and the wonderful eyes; a beautifulface, warm, dreamy, engaging, mobile. It was not the face of a worldlywoman; neither was it the face of a girl. It was too emotional for thesecond, and there was not enough control for the first. It seemed as ifshe stood on the threshold of life, with one hand lingering regretfullyin the clasp of youth and the other doubtfully greeting womanhood;altogether, something of a puzzle. 

But the prophecy of laughter did not come to pass; the little wrinklesfaded, the mouth grew sad, and the silver points no longer danced in hereyes. The pain in her heart was always shadowing; like a jailer itjealously watched and repressed the natural gaiety which was a part ofher. Those who have been in serious wrecks are never quite the sameafterward; and she had seen her fairest dream beaten and crumpled uponthe reef of disillusion. 

Yet again the smile renewed itself. She was a creature of varying moods. She twisted and untwisted the newspaper. Should she? Ought she? Was itnot dreadfully improper and bizarre? Had she not always regretted thesesingular impulses? And yet, what harm to read this letter and return itto the sender? She was so lonely here; it was like being among a strangepeople, so long ago was it that her foot had touched this soil. Was itpossible that she was twenty-five? Was there not some miscount, and wasit not fifteen instead? As old and as wise as the Cumæan Sybil at onemoment, as light and careless as a Hebe the next. Would not this war ofwisdom and folly be decided ere long?

She opened the paper and smoothed out the folds. "Madame Angot. There isa letter for you in the mail-department of this office. " It was sodroll. It was unlike anything she had ever heard of. A personal inquirycolumn, where Cupids and Psyches billed and cooed, and anxious Junossearched for recreant Jupiters! The merest chance had thrown theoriginal inquiry under her notice. Her answer was an impulse to whichshe had given no second thought till too late. She ought to have ignoredit. But since she had taken the first step she might as well take thesecond. She was lonely; the people she knew were out of town; and thejest might amuse her. 

This man was, in all probability, a gentleman, since he was a member ofa gentlemen's club. But second thought convinced her that this provednothing. Men are often called gentlemen out of compliment to theirancestors. Still, if this man only saw the affair from her angle ofvision, the grotesque humor of it and not the common vulgar intrigue!She hesitated, as well she might. Supposing that eventually he found outwho she was? That would never, never do. No one must know that she wasin America, about to step into the wildest of wild adventures. No; shemust not be found out. The king, who had been kind to her, and the courtmust never know. From their viewpoint they would have declared that shewas about to tarnish a distinguished name, to outrage the oldestaristocracy in Europe, the court of Italy. But she had her own opinion;what she proposed to do was in itself harmless and innocent. But thisgentleman who leaned out of the window? What should she do with him?What had possessed her to sing at that moment? A block above or belowhis window, and no one would have heard, not even the policeman. Thistime the laughter bubbled. It was all so funny. She had heard every wordof their conversation. She had seen the match flare in the young man'sface. Fortunately they had not thought to peer into the area-ways. Wasit the face she had seen in that flash of light that interested hersufficiently to risk the note? Against the dark of the night it hadappeared for an instant, clean, crisp, ruddy as a cameo. Sometimes asingle glance is enough; the instinct of the heart is often surer thanthe instinct of the mind. She would not have been afraid had he foundher. The face warranted confidence. 

She had sung because she had been happy, happy with that transienthappiness which at times was her portion. Could she ever judge anotherman by his looks? She believed not. How she had run! The man, bareheaded, giving chase, and the burly policeman across the street!Chorus-ladies--what in the world were they?

She stepped down from the alcove, wound the grey veil round theriding-crop and tossed them into a corner. Somehow, in the daylight, themagic was gone from his face, for she had recognized him that first dayin the park. He rode well. She knew that his interest in her had beenonly casual. She touched a bell. A maid appeared. 

"Signora?"

"Bettina, you will go to the office of this newspaper and inquire for aletter addressed to Madame Angot. You can speak that much English. Andbe quick, for I may change my mind. "

"I go at once, Signora. " And she was back in less than half an hour. 

"There was a letter, then?" The points were dancing again in the blueeyes. 

"And here it is, signora. " The maid's eyes sparkled, too. An intrigue!It would not be so dull hereafter. 

"You may go. Perhaps, " and Bettina's mistress smiled, "perhaps I may letyou read it and answer it, after I am done with it. That would be ratherneat. "

"But it will be in English, signora; and that I can not read. " Bettina'seyes filled with disappointment. 

"You may use it as a lesson. In a few days you should be able to masterit. "

The slight nod was a dismissal, and the maid went about her duties, which were not many in this house. These were terrible days; the two ofthem alone in this strange _palazzo_, and the stuffy, ill-smelling_trattoria_ they dined at! _Che peccato!_ And that she should sit sideby side with her mistress! _Santa Maria_, what was the good world comingto? And the ban on the familiar tongue! English? She despised it. German? She detested it. But to be allowed to speak in French, thatalone made conversation tolerable. And this new mad whim! Oh, yes; thesignora was truly mad this time. 

Meanwhile the lady with the Venetian hair toyed with the letter. Clubpaper. Evidently he was not afraid to trust her. But would he amuse her?Would he have anything to say that would interest her? She ran thepaper-knife under the flap. The contents gave her a genuine surprise. She ran to the window. Italian! It was written in Italian, with all theflourishes of an Italian born. She turned to the signature. Hillard; sohe had signed his name in full? She ruminated. How came such a name tobelong to a man who wrote Italian so beautifully? Here was something toponder over. She smiled and looked at the signature again. . . . John, Giovanni. She would call him Giovanni. She had been rather clever. Tohave had the wit to look in the library for the blue book and the clublist; not every woman would have thought of that. Then a new inspirationcame to her, and she struck the bell again. She sent Bettina for thecard-basket in the lower hall. She scattered the contents upon thefloor, touched up the wood fire, and sat down Turkish-wise. She sortedthe cards carefully, and lo! she was presently rewarded. She held up thecard in triumph. He had called at this house on Thanksgiving Day. He wasknown, then, to the master and mistress, this Giovanni with the Irishsurname. Very good. She now gave her full attention to the letter, which, incredible as it may seem, she had not yet perused. 

 To the Lady in the Fog--To begin with, let me say that I, too, have laughed. But there was some degree of chagrin in my laughter. On my word of honor, it was a distinct shock to my sense of dignity when I saw that idiotic personal of mine in the paper. It is my first offense of the kind, and I am really ashamed. But the situation was not ordinary. Ordinary women do not sing in the streets after midnight. As you could not possibly be ordinary, my offense has greater magnitude. To indite a personal to a gentlewoman! A thousand pardons! I doubted that it would come under your notice; and even if it did, I was sure that you would ignore it. And yet I am human enough to have hoped that you wouldn't. When I found your note, it was a kind of vindication; it proved that a singular episode had taken place. To find a woman with an appreciable sense of humor is rare; to find one who couples this with initiation is rarer still. I do not refer to wit, the eternal striving to say something clever, regardless of cost. How you found out my name confuses me. 

"Indeed!" murmured the lady. 

 Doubtless you have the club list in your house. Do you know, when the letter was brought me, I saw nothing unusual about the address. It was only when I began this letter that I comprehended how clever you were. There are half a dozen J. H's at the club. I tell you truthfully, over my own name, that your voice startled me. It would have startled me under ordinary circumstances. In New York one does not sing in the streets. It is considered bad form by the police. 

"Thanks! I must remember that. "

 I was startled, then, because my thoughts were far away. I was dreaming of Italy, where I was born, though there is no more Italian blood in my veins than there is in yours. 

The ruddy head became erect and the blue eyes searched the glowing seamsin the logs. Here was a riddle. 

"What made him think that, I wonder?"

 I therefore write this in a language familiar to us both, certain you could not sing Lecocq's songs in Italian if you did not speak and understand it thoroughly. Signora or signorina, whichever it may be, have we no mutual friends? Are you not known to some one who knows me? Some one who will speak for me, my character, my habits? Modesty forbids that I myself should dwell upon my virtues. I could refer you to my bankers, but money does not recommend the good character of a man. It merely recommends his thrift, or more generally that of his father. 

"That will pass as wit, " said the lady. "But it is rather a dull letter, so far. But, then, he is wandering in the dark. "

 You say you sang because at that moment you were happy. This implies that you are not always so. Surely, with a voice like yours one can not possibly be unhappy. If only I might meet you! Will you not do me that honor? I realize that this is all irregular, out of fashion, obsolete. But something tells me that neither of us is adjusted properly to prosaic environments. Isn't there just a little pure, healthy romance waiting to be given life? Your voice haunts me; out of every silence it comes to me--"She is so innocent, so youthful!"

 John Hillard. 

The letter fluttered into her lap. She leaned on her elbows. It was nota bad letter; and she rather liked the boyish tone of it. Nothing vulgarpeered out from between the lines. Did he really love music? He must, for it was not every young man who could pick out the melody of an old, forgotten opera. She shivered, but the room was warm. Had fate or chancesome ulterior purpose behind this episode? Rather than tempt fate shedecided not to answer this letter; aside from her passive superstition, it would be neither wise nor useful. She desired to meet no strangers;to be left to herself was all she wished. Her voice, it was all she hadthat afforded her comfort and pleasure. 

Romance! The word came back to her. With an unmusical laugh she stoodup, shaking the letter to the floor. Romance! She was no longer a girl;she was a woman of five and twenty; and what should a woman know ofromance? Ah, there had been a time when all the world was romance, romance; when the night breeze had whispered it under hercasement-window, when the lattice-climbing roses had breathed it, whenthe moon and the stars had spelled it. Romance! She hated the word notless than she hated the Italian language, the Italian people, thecountry itself. She spurned the letter with her foot and fed thenewspaper to the fire. She would let Bettina answer the letter. 

She went down-stairs to the piano and played with strong feeling. Presently she began to sing a haunting melancholy song by Abt. From Abtshe turned to Flotow; from Offenbach to Rossini; from Gounod to Verdi. The voice was now sad or gay, now tender or wild. She was mistress ofevery tone, every shade, every expression. 

The door opened gradually. The little maid's face was moved to raptureover these exquisite sounds. 

Crash! It was over. 

"Bettina? Bettina, are you listening?"

"I am always listening. " Bettina squeezed into the room. "I had not theheart to interrupt. It is beautiful, beautiful! To sing like that!"Then, with a burst of confidence: "There will be kings and dukes at yourfeet!"

"Enough!"

"Pardon, signora, I forgot. But listen; I bring a message. A boy came tosay that the rehearsal will be at four this afternoon. It is now aftertwelve. "

"So late? I did not know. We must be off to lunch. "

"And the letter up-stairs on the floor?"

"Some day, Bettina, you will enter the Forbidden Chamber, and I shallhave to play Bluebeard. This time, however, I do not mind. Leave itthere or burn it, " indifferently. 

Bettina knew her mistress. She thought best to leave the letter where itlay, forgotten for the time being. 

CHAPTER IV

BLINDFOLDED

For two days the club steward only nodded when Hillard came in; he hadno letters to present. 

"I am thirty-three years old, " Hillard mused, as he sought thereading-room. "Down-town I am looked upon as a man of affairs, abusiness man, with the care of half a dozen fortunes on my hands. Now, what's the matter with me? I begin to tremble when I look that sober oldsteward in the face. If he had handed me a letter to-night, I shouldhave had to lean against the wall for support. This will never do atall. I have not seen her face, I do not know her name; for all I know, she may be this Leddy Lightfinger. . . . No, that would be impossible. Leddy Lightfinger would have made an appointment. What possesses me todwell in this realm of fancy, which is less tangible than a cloud ofsmoke? Have I reached my dotage by the way of the seven-league boots? AmI simply bored with the monotony of routine, and am I groping blindlyfor a new sensation?" He smoked thoughtfully. "Or, am I romantic? Tocreate romance out of nothing; I used to do that when I was a boy. ButI'm a boy no longer. Or, _am_ I a boy, thirty-three years old?. . . Shedoes not answer my letter. Sensible woman. In her place I shouldn'tanswer it. But in my place I want her to. Two weeks ago I was hauntingthe curio-shops for a Roman cameo two thousand years old; to-night Imight take it as a gift. I have ceased to be interested in somethingthat has always interested me. Something is wrong; what is it? She sentfor my letter. That indicates that she read it. Well, well!" reachingfor the _London Illustrated News_; "let's see what their Majesties havebeen doing the past fortnight. "

The King of England was preparing to descend to the Riviera; the King ofSpain was killing pigeons; the Kaiser was calling for more battleships;the Czar of all the Russias was still able to sit for his photograph;the King of Italy was giving a fête; and Leopold of Belgium was winningat Monte Carlo. Among the lesser nobles the American duchesses werecreating a favorable impression in spite of their husbands. 

"What a fine sensation it must be, " Hillard murmured, "to be able at anytime to plunge one's noble white hand into a sack of almostinexhaustible American dollars!"

He dropped the paper. The same old stories, warmed over. There wasreally nothing new in the world. If Giovanni returned to Italy in thespring, he was of a mind to go with him. He looked up and was glad tosee Merrihew in the doorway. 

"Been looking for you, Jack. Want your company to-night. Kitty Killigrewis giving a little bite to eat after the performance, and has asked meto bring you along. Will you come?"

"With pleasure, Dan. Are you dining with any one to-night?" Hillard waslonesome. 

"Yes. A little bridge till eleven. "

"You're hopeless. I can see you in limbo, matching coffin-plates withCharon. I'll hunt you up at eleven. "

"Heard the talk?"

"About what?"

"Why, some one in the club has been using the agony column. The J. H'sare being guyed unmercifully, and you'll come in for it presently. It'sa case of wine on the man who did it. "

Hillard felt of his collar and drew down his cuffs. "Probably somejoke, " he ventured tentatively. 

"If it isn't, the man who would stoop to such tommyrot and tack the nameof his club to it must be an ass. "

"No doubt about that. Odd that this is the first time I have heard aboutit. " But silently Hillard was swearing at his folly. There was one crumbof comfort: the incident would be forgotten in a few days. 

"I may depend upon you to-night, then?" said Merrihew. 

"I shall be pleased to meet Miss Killigrew, " which was a white one. Hillard would have paid court to a laundress rather than offendMerrihew. 

And promptly at eleven he went up to the card-room and dragged Merrihewaway. Merrihew gave up his chair reluctantly. He was winning. He wouldhave been just as reluctant, however, had he been losing. The amateurgambler never wants to stop. 

On the way to the Killigrew apartment, Merrihew's moods varied. At onemoment he was on the heights, at the next in the depths. He simply couldnot live without Kitty. Perhaps if this trip abroad turned out badly shemight change her mind. Seven thousand _could_ be made to muster. TwiceHillard came very near making his friend a confidant of his own affair;but he realized that, while Merrihew was to be trusted in all things, itwas not yet time. 

He found a pleasing and diverting company. There was Mère Killigrew, aquaint little old lady who deplored her daughter's occupation butadmitted that without her success, Heaven only knew how they would havegot along. There was the genial Thomas O'Mally, a low-comedian ofgenuine ability, whom Hillard knew casually; Smith, a light-comedian;and Worth, a moderately successful barytone to whom Hillard took one ofthose instant and unaccountable dislikes. These three and Kitty weregoing abroad. And there were several members of _The Modern Maid_company, which went on tour the following Monday. 

Kitty fancied Hillard from the start; and he on his side found her welleducated, witty and unaffected. She was even prettier than herphotograph. Merrihew's face beamed upon them both, in a kind ofbenediction. He had known all along that once Jack saw Kitty, he wouldbecome a good ally in fighting down her objections. 

"Think of singing in Italy!" cried Kitty. "Isn't it just wonderful?"

"And has Merrihew told you to get a return ticket before you sail?" withhalf a jest. 

"Don't you think it will be successful?" a shade of disappointment. "There will be thousands of lonesome Americans over there. Out ofpatriotism, if for nothing else, they ought to come and see us. "

"They certainly ought to. But I'm an old killjoy. "

"No, no; go on and tell me all your doubts. You have been over there somany times. "

"Well, supposing your tourists are tired, after having walked all daythrough the churches and galleries? They may want to go to bed early. But you never can tell till you try. You may become the rage on thecontinent. Yet, you go into the enemy's country. It isn't the same asgoing to London, among tolerant cousins. In Italy and in Germany thereis always so much red tape, blundering, confusing red tape, customduties, excessive charges. But your manager must know what he is doing. "

"He has everything in black and white, I believe. But your advice issensible. "

"Do you know anything about Italy or Germany?"

"Only what I learned in my geographies, " laughing. "Rome, Florence, Genoa, Venice, Nice, Milan, Strasburg, Cologne, and on to Berlin! It islike a fairy story come true. "

"Who is your prima donna?" he asked. 

"Ah!" Kitty's face became eager with excitement. "Now you have put yourfinger on the mystery that is bothering us all. Not one of us has seenher or knows her name. She has not rehearsed with us and will not tillwe reach Naples, where we rest a week. When we speak of her, the managersmiles and says nothing; and as none of us has seen the backer, Mr. Worth thinks that she herself is the prima donna and backer in one. Wethink that she is some rich young woman who wishes to exploit her voice. There's a lot of them in the world. I wish I knew her. I am dying ofcuriosity. The manager is not a man to fool away his time. She doubtlesscan act and sing. Little has been said about the venture in the papers, and I'm glad. We may prove a perfect fizzle, and the less said thebetter. As we can't walk back, I must learn to swim. . . . Lunch is ready, every one!"

The mummers and the outsiders flocked into the small dining-room. Therewas plenty to eat--beer, soda, whisky, and two magnums of champagne, Merrihew's contribution to the feast. Hillard listened with increasingamusement to the shop-talk. Such and such a person (absent) never couldact; such and such a composer (absent) was always giving the high noteto the wrong singer; such and such a manager (absent) never staged theopera right. It was after one when they returned to the sitting-room, where the piano stood. The wine was now opened and toasts were drunk. O'Mally told inimitable stories. There was something exceedingly drollin that expressive Irish face of his and the way he lingered over hiswine. 

[Illustration: O'Mally told inimitable stories]

"There is nothing so good as a glass of champagne, " he observed, "unlessit is another. "

Worth did not drink, but Hillard did not like his handsome face any themore for this virtue. He sang remarkably well, however, and with awillingness Hillard had not believed he possessed. He wondered vaguelywhy he disliked the man. He had never met him before, and knew nothingat all about him. It was one of those inexplicable things which can notbe answered. Otherwise Hillard enjoyed himself vastly. He found thesepeople full of hope, light-hearted, generous, intelligent, and generallyimprovident. 

"Mr. Merrihew has been telling me all about you, " said Kitty. 

"You mean, of course, my good qualities, " replied Hillard. 

"To hear him talk, one would think that you possessed nothing else. ButI am sure that you have glaring faults, such as a man might pass overand a woman go round. "

"I believed that Merrihew had a serious fault till to-night, " he said;and he made no attempt to disguise the admiration in his eyes. 

She looked at him quickly and colored. It was a good sign. 

"Has the foolish boy been telling you that I refused to marry him? Ilike him very much, " she added gravely; "but I shall never marry any mantill I have ceased to love the stage. Just now I can not wisely loveanything else. "

"I understand, " he said. 

"I am not a whit less extravagant than he is. How could the two of uslive on an income which he himself admits that he can not live within?But that isn't it; a million would not make any difference. I am like ayoung colt; I have no desire to be harnessed yet. A month after I amgone he will forget all about me; or, at least, he will only recollectme with a sigh of relief. There will be others; only I hope they willtreat him as frankly as I have done. "

"Merrihew is the most loyal man I know, " Hillard declared, bound todefend his comrade against this shrewd insight to his character. 

"Of course he is loyal! And he is always in earnest--for the moment. "She laughed. "But if he marries any one while I am gone, I shall hatehim. "

And then they both laughed. 

"I'll wager another magnum, " cried Merrihew from across the room, "thatI'm the subject under discussion. "

"Another magnum!" murmured O'Mally rapturously. 

"No more magnums, " said Kitty resolutely. 

"On abstract principles, then!" insisted Merrihew. 

"You win, " Kitty replied merrily. "We have been saying only nice thingsabout you. "

It was outrageously late, nearly four, when the revelers took leave oftheir hostess. Merrihew was happy with that evanescent happiness whichgoes hand in glove with late suppers and magnums. In the morning hewould have a headache. 

"Isn't she a little wonder, Jack? Do you blame me?"

"Not at all, Dan. It might be a good thing for you to marry a sensiblelittle woman like that. But she won't have you. "

"No, she won't. " Merrihew reached for his watch. "Four A. M. Wonder if wecan't find another bottle somewhere. "

"You are going home, my boy. "

"All right, if you say so, "--good-humoredly. "Say, what do you think ofthat man Worth?"

"Very good voice; but he's too handsome. Being a plain duffer myself, Idon't take kindly to handsome men. "

"Oh, go on! You're as fine a looking chap as there's in New York. Butthis man Worth has the looks of a lady-killer. He's been eying Kitty, but it doesn't go. Hang it, I can't see why she won't marry me now. She's got to, some time or other. "

"You must have patience. "

"Or more money. Can't O'Mally tell a good story, though?"

"Good company, too; but I should hate to turn him loose in mywine-cellars. I imagine that he's not a connoisseur, and will praiseanything that's good to drink, unless it's water. "

Merrihew roared. 

"Well, here's your station, Dan. You go home like a good boy. Shall Isee you to-morrow?"

"Eight-thirty in the park. Gallop off headache. Nothing like a horse fora headache. Good night. "

Merrihew climbed the elevated stairs and vanished. Hillard arrived hometired and sleepy; but as he saw a letter on the stand in the hall, hisdrowsiness passed quickly. There was no other blue envelope like it. Shenow had his house address; she was interested enough to look it up. Shedid not follow his lead and write in Italian; she wrote inEnglish--crisp English, too. Again there was neither beginning norending. But this was a letter; there was something here of the woman, something to read and read again. 

 I had told the maid to burn your letter. But she left it on the floor where I had thrown it, and I came across it this morning. It looked rather pathetic. So I am writing you against my better judgment. Yes, I know your name; I find that I am well acquainted with people you know. I am a woman who often surrenders to the impulse of the moment; I may or may not answer any future letter from you. You write very good Italian; but it will surprise you to learn that I detest all things that are Italian. Once I loved them well. Why should you wish to know me? Our ways are as divergent as the two poles. Happy because I sing? There are some things over which we can sing or laugh, but of which we can not speak without crying. Happy or unhappy, what can this matter to you? To you I shall always remain the Lady in the Fog. Are you rich, young, talented? I care not in the least. Perhaps it amuses me to add to your confusion. Find me? I think not. Seek me? Do so; I permit you to. And would you know me if you found me? Misguided energy!

Hillard put the letter away, extinguished the lights, and passed up tohis room. She defied him to find her? This was a direct challenge. Hewould accept it. This time he would use no personal to tell her that aletter awaited her. She should make the inquiries herself. And from themail-clerk he would obtain a description of the elusive Madame Angot. Next morning he rode in the park with Merrihew. Again he saw the veiledlady on the Sandford black. Out of normal curiosity he telephoned thestables and made inquiries. The reply was short. No one at the stablesknew the lady, but she rode the horse on proper authority. 

That night he wrote:

 I shall keep on writing till you cease to reply. Let me be frank with you. I am bored; so are you. The pleasure you derive in keeping up this mystery engages you. You bid me to find you. I accept the challenge. You must understand at once that it is the mystery that interests me. It is the unknown that attracts me. I am mentally painting you in all sorts of radiant colors. You defy me to find you. There is nothing so reliable as the unexpected, nothing so desperately uncertain as a thing assured. I warn you that I shall lay all manner of traps, waylay your messengers, bribe them. I shall find out where you live. The rest will be simple. 

She replied:

 I have no desire to alleviate your confessed boredom. Your persistence would be praiseworthy if well directed. Waters wear away stone, the wind crumbles the marble, but a woman is not moved till she wishes to be. I never thought that I should dabble in an intrigue of this sort, and I am surprised at the amusement it affords me. I really owe you some gratitude. The few I have met who know you tell me that you are a "nice young man. "

He rebelled at the adjective. Every man has some portion of self-love. So his next effort was a passionate denial that he was nice. When shouldhe meet her? The postman brought him a letter which contained oneword--_Nimmer!_ He sent her four pages, a frank and witty description ofhimself and friends, his past and some of theirs. 

On the day she received this letter a cablegram came to her from the farMediterranean. Whatever it contained had the effect to cause allrestraint to disappear from the tone of her letters. They becamecharming; and more and more Hillard found himself loving a Voice. Allhis watching, all his traps, came to no successful end. She was tooclever for him. He sought the mail-department of the great newspaper;the clerk couldn't remember, there were so many calling for mail. Letters passed to and fro daily now, but always she declared that it wasimpossible for them to meet. To write a letter was one thing, to meet astrange man in an unconventional manner was another. No, it was out ofthe question to dine with him in a restaurant. It was equally out of thequestion to cook a dinner where she lived, as she and her maid dined ata small restaurant near-by. Would he not be content with the romance andlet the reality go? Finally he proposed to bring the dinner all cookedfrom the club. Two days went by without a sign; then the blue lettercame. 

 I surrender. The most fatal thing in life is curiosity. It has the power to lead us into all manner of trouble. And I have my share of curiosity. Remember, you never would have found me. I may dwell in a garret; I may be hideous; perhaps nothing remains to me but my voice. Whatever you have painted me in your imagination, I tell you that I shall prove directly the opposite. And now the terms. And if you do not follow them confidently and blindly, your dinner will grow cold in the carriage. Dinner will be at eight, February first. At seven a carriage will call for you. The messenger will blindfold you. He will then proceed to the club and take the dinner, and bring you here. Be warned! If you so much as lift the corner of the bandage, the romance will end then and there. It is necessary to enforce these conditions, but it is not necessary to explain why. I realize that I am doing something very foolish and unwise. But, as you say, I am a woman who has seen much of the world. Thus I have my worldly side. I shall use it as a buffer. 

"Blindfolded!" Hillard scrubbed his chin. All these precautions! Who wasshe? What was she? An ordinary young woman, full of mischief, or was shewhat he hoped, a real mystery? He was well on the way to find out. Sincethere was no escape, blindfolded he would go. 

At half after six, on the night of the first of February, then, he beganto dress. It was some time since he had taken such particular care. 

"The signore seems in high spirits to-night, " observed Giovanni, as helaid out the linen. 

"Man, I'm happy and greatly excited. Do you recollect the lady who sangunder my window? I am going to meet her to-night. The mystery will be amystery no longer. "

"Who is she?" asked Giovanni sharply. It was rarely he asked a questionwith such directness. 

But his master was too excited to note it. "On my word, I don't know whoshe is, Giovanni. She has written such charming letters! She may be onlya singer; she may be a Russian princess in exile; she may be anadventuress of the most formidable type; she may be an American girl. One thing, she is not English. English women as I have found them lackthe essential spirit of adventure. "

"Ah!" Giovanni stroked his lips doubtfully. "It is not like the signoreto plunge blindly into adventures like this. "

"The very word, blindly. I go blindfolded, _amico_. What do you think ofthat?"

"Blindfolded?" Giovanni was horrified. "It is a trap!" he cried. "Theywill assassinate you! No, you shall not go! In Rome, at the carnivals, it is an old game. They will rob you. "

"You are dreaming. This is America; things are not done that way here. And nothing now can turn me aside. " Hillard was all the while finishinghis toilet. 

"I suppose not. But blindfolded!"

"Take the number of the cab as I get in. If anything should happen, givethe number to the police. "

Giovanni, with a sharp movement of the hands, expressed his resignationto the worst. He knew the futility of arguing with his master. But hefollowed him down to the hall and tied on the bandage himself. He washonest about it, too, for Hillard could see nothing. Then themessenger-boy took him by the hand and led him to the carriage. As thetwo were climbing in, Giovanni spoke rapidly in his native tongue. 

"There is no number on the carriage!"

"Too late to bother now. "

The carriage rolled off toward the club, where the dinner, hot andsmoking, was taken on. 

"Joinin' th' Elks?" asked the boy, when they were well under way oncemore. 

"No, it's a séance. They are going to call up my fate round a table. "

"Huh? Aw, go-wan! Dey don't call up no ghosts wit' French cider and hotboids. " The boy relapsed into silence. 

Hillard tried to follow the turns of the carriage, but these were toomany; and so he resigned himself to become totally lost. By and by thecarriage stopped. 

"Dis is where we alights, me loid!" the boy jeered. "An' no lookin', mind. "

Hillard found the carriage steps and landed safely. He stood for amoment, listening. They were in a quiet part of the city; no elevated orsurface cars were near. He was assured that the location was exclusive. Garrets are not to be found in quiet places. 

"Look out fer th' steps, " said the boy, again taking Hillard by thehand. 

"And you be careful of that basket. "

"I ain't lettin' it drop any. "

Winding steps, thought the blindfolded man. He could recollect none. Itseemed to him that they stood there five minutes before the door opened. When it did, the boy passed in the basket and resolutely pushed Hillardinto the hall. The door closed gently, and the adventure was begun. Whither would it lead him?

"Take off the bandage the signore may now, " said a voice in brokenEnglish. 

"Thanks!" He tore the handkerchief from his eyes and blinked. The hallwas so dimly lighted that he could see nothing distinctly. 

"The signore's coat and hat. "

He passed over these articles, shook the wrinkles from his trousers, smoothed his chin, and stood at attention. The maid eyed him withabundant approval, then knocked timidly on the door leading to thedrawing-room. He was sure of one thing: this was some millionaire'shome. What if he should see in the drawing-room a party of his intimatefriends, ready to plague and jest? He shuddered. He never hadentertained such an appalling probability. 

"_Avanti!_" called a soft voice from within. 

Hillard gathered in his courage, opened the door and stepped inside. Asingle lamp in a far corner drew his glance, which roved a moment later. On a divan near this lamp sat a woman in black. Only a patch of whitethroat could be seen, for her shoulders were not bare and her arms onlyto the elbows. Her back was turned squarely. He could see nothing of herface. But what a head! He caught his breath. It glowed like acopper-beech in the sunshine. What was it? There was something, something he could not see. 

"Madame?" he faltered. He had had a gallant Italian phrase to turn forher benefit. He spoke English instead, and not very firmly. 

The woman turned. Hillard took a step backward and blundered against apedestal. 

She was masked!

CHAPTER V

THE MASK

Masked! Only her mouth and chin were visible, and several little piecesof court-plaster effectually disguised these. There _was_ a mystery. Heto come blindfolded and she to wear a mask! Extraordinary! There wassomething more than a jest: she really did not wish to be known, and thereason lay far back of all this, beyond his grasp. He stood theredumfounded. She rose. The movement was elegant. 

"And this, " she said ironically, "is the gentleman who leaned out of thewindow?"

He brought all his faculties together, for he knew that he would needthem in this encounter. "Supposing I had fallen out of it? Well, itcould not have mattered. I should not have been more at your feet than Iam now. " This was very good, considering how dry his tongue was. 

"If you had fallen out? I had not thought of that. A modern Ulysses, house-broken, and an itinerant siren! You had been wise to have stuffedyour ears that night. "

"My mythology is rusty. And I much prefer Penelope. She interests mevastly more than the ancient prize-fighter. "

"But sit down, Mr. Hillard, sit down. " The lady with the mask motionedhim to a chair directly under the light. She wished to study his facewhile she talked. 

Hillard reached the chair successfully enough, but he never couldrecollect how. He sat down as a bashful man sits down in a crowdedball-room, with his knees drawn in tightly and his feet at sympatheticangles. He knew that she would have the best of him in this engagement. All the bright things to say would come to him after he had gone home. It was far easier to write letters. That mask! One might as wellconverse with the Sphinx. His face was hers to study; her emotions wouldbe wholly her own. 

Presently she laughed with malice. 

"You are not comfortable in that chair. "

"That is true; and yet it is soft and roomy. I am uneasy. Perhaps yourecall to my subconsciousness a period in my former existence on earth;or, if you will, one of my ancestors. "

"I fail to understand. "

"Well, a Hillard two hundred years ago had his head cut off by an ax. His executioner wore a mask. "

"A mistake. Your ancestor should have been hanged. "

"And I along with him, you would imply?"

"Are you not Irish? I have known Irishmen by the name of Hillard. "

"They were in disguise. But I have a generous strain of Irish blood inme. Otherwise I shouldn't have had the courage to follow up an adventurelike this. "

"Thanks. The compliment is rather ambiguous. "

"My compliments can not possibly be more ambiguous than your appearance. Surely, there will be an hour for unmasking. "

"It has already begun, Mr. Hillard. "

"So I am the one who is to be unmasked? Well, I have only the masknature gave to me. I wish she had been more liberal. But I shall seewhat can be done with it. "

"Is there any mask quite so terrible, quite so deceptive, as this verymask nature gives us? Can it not lie adroitly, break hearts, overthrowempires? You can judge a character by this mask sometimes, but never theworking of the mind behind it. " She resumed her seat on the divan. 

"I wish I could read yours. "

"And much good it would do you. " She smiled, rather ruefully Hillardthought. 

He took note of her teeth, and felt a sudden tinge of regret. One maydisguise the face and hair, but the teeth are always the same. Two lowerteeth on the right side appeared to be gone; the others were firm andglistening white. It was a pity, for a woman's teeth are as much herglory as her hair. 

"I am curious to learn what you brought for dinner. "

He enumerated the delicacies. 

"You have evidently studied your Lucullus, " she said. 

Silence. The ruddy light on her hair fascinated him. 

"What is it?" she demanded. 

"Your hair, " with a simplicity which silenced her. "You have the mostbeautiful hair I have ever seen. "

"Thank you. And yet, for all you know, it may be a fine wig. "

"If it is, I shall never be sure of anything again. Am I in prosaic NewYork? Have you not, by some carpet-magic, transported me to old Europe?If a dozen conspirators came in in cowls to render me the oath, I shouldnot be at all surprised. "

"There is no magic; only a mask. "

"And there is no way of seeing behind that?"

"None, absolutely none. I am told that you are a gentleman; so I amconfident that you will not stoop to use force. "

"Only the force of eloquence, if ever I may lay claim to that again. "

"You are beginning well. For I tell you, Mr. Hillard, I shall expect butthe most brilliant wit from you to-night. As for me, I shall onlyinterpolate occasionally. Now, begin. "

"I am not used to dancing without the pole. "

"You must learn. Dance!"

"Upon what--nothing? And how shall I know that my dancing pleases you?"

"I agree to tell you. I wear this mask to-night because I am taking asurreptitious leaf out of my book of cares. "

"Cares? Have you any?"

"If I were without cares it would not be necessary to seek diversions ofthis equivocal character. " She crossed her arms. The magic of old Veniceseemed at that moment to enfold her. 

"You are, then, seeking a diversion?"

"Nothing more or less. Do not flatter yourself that there is anythingpersonal or romantic on my side. I am bored. "

"I am wholly in your hands, " he said; "and they are very beautifulhands. "

"Is there anything more beautiful than a cat's paw, when the claws arehidden? Never judge a woman by her hands. " Nevertheless she buried herhands in the depths of a down-pillow. She had forgotten her rings. Sheslipped them off and managed to hide them. 

"I promise to remember. Your letters--" he began diffidently. Where thedeuce was his tongue? Was he to be tongue-tied all the evening beforethis Columbine, who, with the aid of her mask, was covertly laughing athis awkwardness?

"My letters? A woman often writes what she will not say, and says whatshe will not write. Did you not ask me to disillusion you?"

"Yes, but softly, softly. I begin to believe one thing: you brought mehere to teach me a lesson. Gentlemen should never use the personalcolumn. "

"Nor should ladies read it. I am not saving any mercy for myself!" withlaughter. 

"Shall I begin with my past?"

"Something less horrifying, if you please!"

"I object to the word nice, " he said, seeking a new channel, for he wasnot steering very well in those he had so far selected. 

"The word was employed negligently. Your friends used the word. "

"I should have preferred milksop!" He was growing impatient. "Hadn't youbetter try some new kind of torture?"

"This is only a skirmish; your real torture hasn't even begun yet. Butthis will give you an appetite. I do not drink champagne, but thechambertin will do nicely. Oh, I propose that you shall pay for thisdinner, Mr. Hillard; pay for the privilege of sharing it with me. "

"Bring on the check. I should like to settle the bill at once, and haveit off my mind. "

"You may take off your gloves, " she countered. "I know that you mustfeel uncomfortable with them on. To clasp one's own hands is a kind ofpersonal sympathy. Try it. "

He drew them off, not ungracefully, and tucked them away. He spread histhin brown muscular fingers a few times, then folded his arms. 

"You look quite Napoleonic in that pose. "

"If this were only Elba and not St. Helena! I should be coming back toyou some day. "

"I shall credit that against the partridges. "

This time her laughter was relaxed and joyful. And somehow he felt moreat ease. He was growing accustomed to the mask. He stretched his legsand fingered his nether lip. 

"Have you not somewhere an invisible cloak?"

"I had one that night, which nature lent me, " she answered readily. "Iwas so invisible to you that I heard the policeman call out your name. Ithank you for insisting that I was not a chorus-lady. "

Here was a revelation which accounted for many things. "I haven't beenvery fortunate so far in this adventure. "

"That is rank ingratitude. I am of the opinion that fortune has highlyfavored you. "

"But the mask, the mask! If you heard the policeman call my name, youmust have heard him speak of one Leddy Lightfinger. "

"I did indeed. And is it not possible that I am that very person?"

Hillard dropped his hand toward his watch. "Why do you hate Italy?"

She sat straight, and what little he could see of her mouth hadhardened. 

"There will be no retrospection this evening, if you please, " her voicerather metallic. 

The mystery lifted its head again. One does not hate a country without astrong and vital reason. Was Giovanni partly right, after all? Was thisa kind of trap, a play to gain his interest? Was her singing under hiswindow purely accidental? She hated Italy. The State or the Church? Morelikely the State. And what had the State done to her or she to theState? A conspirator, in need of funds and men? If this was the case, she was not going about her cause scientifically. Italy had no hold uponanything of his save his love of beauty. Perhaps her reason for hatingItaly was individual and singular: as she would have hated any othercountry, had her unhappiness originated there. 

"Will you not sing?" he asked. This was an inspiration. Music mightassist in melting her new reserve. 

"You recollect, then, that I possess a voice?"

"It is all I have to recollect. Tell me, whither is all this to lead?"

"To the door, and into the fog again. "

"On my word, I'm half inclined to believe you to be an anarchist or aRed, or something on that order. "

"On account of my hair?" She laughed again. "Put yourself at ease. I amneither Leddy Lightfinger nor a socialist. There are no dynamite bombsin this house. I despise any organization which aims to destroy society. Society is bad enough as it is; but think of trying to readjust it!"

"I give up the puzzle. "

"That is better. "

It is difficult to seek and hold a pair of eyes partly hidden behind amask. Several times he made the attempt, but his eyes were first tolower. 

Her severity, her irony and her apparent lack of warmth were merematters of calculation. Her plan was to inspire him with trepidation, tokeep him always at arm's length, for his own safety as well as hers. Sheknew something of men. Even the best, if suddenly thrown into an affairso strange as this, might commit an irreparable blunder; and this shedid not want Hillard to do. She was secretly pleased with his strongface and shapely head. There was neither beard nor mustache to hide thevirtues or defects. The chin was square but not heavy, the mouthhumorous, kindly and firm, the nose bridged; and the brown eyes, sleepyyet with latent fires, were really handsome. She knew all about him; shewas not afraid to be alone with him; nor was it really necessary to weara mask. But the romance in her heart, that she believed to be dead, wasnot dead, only waiting to be rekindled. True, they were never to meetagain; it was all to begin to-night and end to-night. No man was likelyto forget a face met under such whimsical and extraordinarycircumstances; so he must not have hers to remember. She arose. 

"I will sing!"

"That is more than I dared to hope. " He made as though to rise. 

"Sit down. I do not play by note; my memory is very good. While I amsinging I should much prefer you to remain where you are. "

He obeyed without protest, and she went to the piano. Above theinstrument was a rare old Venetian mirror; in it he could see her facefairly well. And where had he seen that mirror before?

"What shall it be?" she asked, and he forgot the mirror. 

"The song you sang under my window. "

"But that is for the male voice!"

"You sang it very well, nevertheless. I have a good memory, too. " Heleaned forward, his arms crossed on his knees. Was there ever, in allthe world, such an Arabian night?

She sang, but without that buoyant note of the first night. One afteranother he called out the popular airs of the old light operas. She hadthem all on her tongue's end. 

"Light opera appeals to you?" She had followed in the mirror hisslightest move. Was she disappointed?

Where had he seen that copy of Botticelli before? If only there was alittle more light. 

"Pardon me, " he said. "You asked--?"

She repeated her question, wondering what had drawn his attention. 

"I like my grand opera after dinner. After dinner I shall want Verdi, Berlioz, Gounod. "

"But after dinner I may not care to sing. " She spoke in German. 

He was not expecting this tongue; besides, his German had never been afinished product. For all that, he made a passable reply. 

"You speak as many languages as a Swiss hotel-concierge. "

"I wish I did. My mother had one idea in regard to my youth: I shouldspeak four languages and eventually become a great diplomat. As itstands, I speak indifferent French and German, and am not in thediplomatic service. My mother had one of the loveliest voices. It was ajoy to hear her speak, now Italian, now German, now French. Sheunderstood that in these days one does not travel far with Greek andLatin, though they come in handy when you strike old inscriptions. Wewere great comrades. It was rare fun to go with her on anantique-hunting expedition. They never fooled her nor got the better ofher in a bargain. "

She liked the way he spoke of his mother. 

"But you, " he said; "you are not Italian. "

She smiled. 

"You are neither French, German nor English. "

She still smiled, but to the smile she added a gentle shrug. 

"You are American--like myself!" he hazarded. 

Her fingers stirred over the keys again, and Grieg's _Papillon_fluttered softly from flower to flower. 

CHAPTER VI

INTO THE FOG AGAIN

He sat there, waiting and listening. From the light and airy butterfly, the music changed to Farwell's _Norwegian Song_. Hillard saw the lonelysea, the lonely twilight, the lonely gull wheeling seaward, the lonelylittle cottage on the cliffs, and the white moon in the far east. Andpresently she spoke, still playing softly. 

"My father was an American, my mother Italian. But I have lived inEurope nearly all my life. There! You have more of my history than Iintended telling you. " The music went dreamily. 

"I knew it. Who but an American woman would have the courage to do whatyou are doing to-night? Who but one of mine own countrywomen would trustme so wholly and accept me so frankly for what I am, an Americangentleman?"

"Softly!" she warned. "You will dig a pit for your vanity. "

"No. I am an American gentleman, and I am proud of it; though thisstatement in your ears may have a school-boy ring. "

"A nobility in this country? Impossible!"

"Not the kind you find in the _Almanach de Gotha_. I speak of thenobility of the heart and the mind. " He was very much in earnest now. 

"Indeed!" The music stopped, and she turned. She regarded hisearnestness with favor. 

"I have traveled much; I have found noblemen everywhere, in all climes, and also I have found beasts. Oh, I confess that my country is notwholly free from the beast. But the beast here is a beast; shunned, discredited, outcast. On the other side, if he be mentioned in the_Almanach_, they give him sashes and decorations. And they credit uswith being money-mad! It is not true. It is proved every day in theforeign cables that our love for money is not one-tenth so strong asthat which our continental cousins evince. "

"But if you are not money-mad, why these great fortunes?" dubiously. 

"At a certain age a fortune in this country doubles itself without anyeffort on the part of the owner. Few of us marry for money; and when wedo, we at least have the manhood to keep the letter of our bargain. Wedo not beat the wife, nor impoverish her, nor thrust opera-singers intothe house she shares with us. "

"And when you marry?"

"Well, it is generally the woman we love. Dowries are not considered. There is no social law which forbids a dowerless girl to marry adowerless man, " laughing. "But over there it is always and eternally abusiness contract simply. You know that. "

"Yes, a business contract, " listlessly. 

"And yet these foreigners call us a business nation! Well, we are, outside our homes. But in the home we are husbands and fathers; most ofus live cleanly and honestly; we make our homes our havens and ourheavens. But of course there is always the beast. But they talk ofnobility on the other side. That is it; they talk, talk. Italy, France, Germany! Why, I had rather be the son of an English farmer than a princeon the continent. And I had rather be what I am than the greatestnobleman in England. "

"Go on, go on! I like it. What do you call it--jingo?"

"Call it what you will. Look at the men we produce. Three or fourhundred years ago Europe gave us great poets, great artists, greatsoldiers, great churchmen, and great rascals. I admire a great rascal, when he is a Napoleon, a Talleyrand, a Machiavelli; but a petty one! Wehave no art, no music, no antiquity; but we have a race of gentlemen. The old country is not breeding them nowadays. "

"No, she simply prints new editions of the _Almanach_. Continue; I ambecoming illumined. "

"If I am boring you?"

"No. I have the greatest admiration for the American gentleman. Myfather was one. But I have met Americans who are not so loyal as youare, who see no good in their native land. "

"I said we have beasts; I forgot to mention the cads. I am perfectlyfrank. Italy is the most beautiful country in the world; France isincomparable; Germany possesses a rugged beauty which I envy for mycountry's sake. Every square foot of it is cultivated; nowhere thesqualidity one sees among the farm-houses of this country. Think of thehistories, the romance, the art, the music! America has little history;and, saving the wildernesses, it is not beautiful; but it is generousand bountiful and healthy mentally. Europe is a story-world, and Ishould like nothing better than to read it to the end of my days. "

"Signora, dinner is served!" The little maid stood between the slidingdoors which gave entrance to the dining-room. 

Signora! thought Hillard. He certainly would look at her hands again. 

"After you, Mr. Hillard, " she said. 

He bowed and passed on before her. But not till he had passed did heunderstand the manoeuver. To follow her would have been nothing lessthan the temptation to pluck at the strings of her mask. Would he havetouched it? He could not say, the temptation not having been his. 

That dinner! Was he in New York? Was it not Bagdad, the bottle and thegenii? Had he ever, even in his most romantic dreams, expected to turn apage so charming, so enchanting, or so dangerous to his peace of mind? Agame of magical hide-and-seek? To see, yet to be blindfolded! Here, across the small table, within arm's length, was a woman such as, had hebeen a painter, he must have painted; a poet, he must have celebrated insilken verse. Three-and-thirty? No, he was only a lad this night. Allhis illusions had come back again. At a word from this mysterious woman, he would have started out on any fool's errand, to any fool's land. 

And she? A whim, a fantastic, unaccountable whim; the whim of a womanseeking forgetfulness, not counting the cost nor caring; simply a whim. She had brought him here to crush him for his impertinence; and thatpurpose was no longer in her mind. Was she sorry? Did he cause her someuneasiness, some regret and sadness? It was too late. There could be noPrince Charming in her world. He had tarried too long by the way. Notthat there was the least sentiment in her heart regarding him; but hispresence, his freshness, his frank honesty, these caused her to resortto comparisons. It was too late indeed. 

On the little table was a Tuscany brass lamp of three wicks, fed byolive oil. It was sufficient to light the table, but the rest of theroom was sunk in darkness. He half understood that there was a definitepurpose in this semi-illumination: she had no wish that he should bychance recognize anything familiar in this house. Dimly he could see thestein-rack and the plate-shelf running around the walls. Sometimes, asthe light flickered, a stein or a plate stood out boldly, as if tochallenge his memory. 

He watched her hands. The fingers were free from rings. Was she singleor married? The maid had called her signora; but that might have been adisguise, like the mask and the patches of court-plaster. 

"May I ask you one question?"

"No, " promptly. There was something in his eyes that made her grow waryof a sudden. 

"Then I shan't ask it. I shall not ask you if you are married. "

"And I shall not say one way or the other. "

She smiled and he laughed quietly. He had put the question and she hadanswered it. 

Neither of them ate much of this elaborate dinner. A game like thismight easily dull the sharpest appetite. He studied her head, the curvesof her throat, the little gestures, the way her shoulders seemed tonarrow when she shrugged; and all these pictures he stored away forfuture need. He would meet her again; a touch of prescience told himthis. When, where, did not matter. 

A running conversation; a fencing match with words and phrases. Timeafter time she touched him; but with all his skill he could not breakthrough her guard. Once or twice he thrust in a manner which was not inaccord with the rules. 

"And that interesting dissertation on the American gentleman?" she saidicily, putting aside each thrust with a parry of this kind. 

"That's the trouble with posing as a moralist; one must live up to theprecepts. Would you believe me if I told you that, at the age ofthree-and-thirty, I am still heart-whole?"

She parried: "I trust you will not spoil that excellent record by makinglove to me. " She reached for the matches, touched off one, watched itburn for a moment, extinguished it, and then deliberately drew a lineacross the center of the table-cloth. 

[Illustration: She deliberately drew a line across the centre of thetable-cloth]

"Now what might that represent?" he asked curiously. 

"A line, Mr. Hillard. The moment you cross that line, that moment youleave this house. On guard!"

"Come, that is not brave. You can retreat till your shoulders touch themat, but I must stand this side of the line, unable to reach you. Andyou have the advantage of the mask besides. You are not a fair fencer. "

"The odds should be in my favor. I am a woman. My wrist is not so strongas yours. "

"Physically, of course, I may pass the line; to reach the salt, forinstance. Will that be against the rules?"

"To a certain extent, no. "

"You make it very hard. You have put temptation in my path. "

"Bid Satan get behind thee. "

"But supposing he should take it into his head to--shoulder me forward?"

"In that case, under the new rules, I should referee the matter. "

"I wish I knew the color of your eyes. Behind those holes I see nothingbut points of fire, no color. Are they blue, brown, grey?"

"They are blue. But supposing I wear this mask because my face isdreadfully scarred, and that I have some vanity?"

"Vanity, yes; but scars, never; at least never so deep as you yourselfcan make. You do not wear that mask to cover defects, but out of mercyto me. "

And so the duel went on. Sometimes the heat of the mask almostsuffocated her, and she could hardly resist the desire to tear it fromher face. Yet, in spite of this discomfort, she was enjoying herself. This adventure was as novel to her as it was to him. Once she rose andapproached the window, slyly raising the mask and breathing deeply ofthe cold air which rushed in through the crevices. When she turned shefound that he, too, had risen. He was looking at the steins, one ofwhich he held in his hand. Moreover, he returned and set the stein downbeside his plate. 

"Tell me, why do you do that?" There was an anxious note in her voice. 

"I have an idea. But let us proceed with the dinner. This salad--"

"I am more interested in the idea. " She pushed aside the salad and tooka sip of the ruby Burgundy. Had he discovered something?

"May I smoke?" he asked. 

"By all means. "

He lighted a cigarette and put the case near the line. 

"Do you not enjoy a cigarette?"

"Sometimes, " she answered. "But that idea--"

"Will you not have one?" He moved the case still nearer to the line. 

She reached out a firm round white arm. 

"One moment, " he said; "let us understand each other thoroughly. "

"What do you mean?" her arm poised in mid-air. "To touch a cigarette youmust cross the line to this side. "

She withdrew her arm slowly. 

"I shall not smoke. If I crossed the line I should establish a dangerousprecedent. A good stroke. Now, the idea. I must have that idea. "

He blew the smoke toward the lamp; it sailed over the flaming wicks anddarted into the dark beyond. 

"The mirror over the piano confused me. I had seen it somewhere before. Then, there was that old copy of Botticelli. The frame was familiar, butI could not place it. This stein, however!" He laughed; the laughter wasboyish, even triumphant. 

"Well, that stein?" She was now leaning across the table, her fingerstense on the cloth. 

"I bought that stein two seasons ago. This is the Sandfords' place, andyou are the veiled lady who has been riding Mrs. Sandford's favoritehunter in the park. "

"And so?"

"I shall find out who you are presently. "

"How?"

"That shall be my secret. Mutual friends, indeed! You will not have tosend me home blindfolded. "

"That is precisely what I shall do, in a certain sense. My name?Perhaps. But you will never know my face. "

"Suppose I should determine to cross the line, despite your precepts?"

They stood up simultaneously. In a matter of this sort he was by far thequicker. In an instant he had caught her by the wrist, at the same timedrawing her irresistibly round the table toward him. His grasp was notrough, only firm. She ceased to pull against him. 

"I must see your face. I shall never be at peace if I do not. "

"Certainly you will never know any peace if you do. Be careful!"

His free hand stole toward the strings of her mask. She moved not. Hisface was very close to hers now. If only she would struggle! Yes, he wascertain now that her eyes were blue. But they looked at him with amenace which chilled his ardor. He dropped the hand from the mask andreleased her wrist. 

"No, I haven't the courage. If I take that mask from your face, it willbe the end. And I do not want this ever to end. If you will not let mesee your face of your own free will, so be it. I shall see it some day, mark me. Fate does not cross two paths in this manner without apurpose. " He stepped back slowly. "You do not understand the lure ofthat mask. "

"Perhaps I do. I am beginning to admire your self-control, Mr. Hillard;I am beginning to admire it very much. But I am tired now, and I mustask you to go. "

"Once more, will you let me see your face?"

"No. If, as you say, fate intends for us to meet again, you will see it. But I have my doubts. So it is my will to pass out of your life ascompletely as though I had never entered it; from one fog into another. No, I am not a happy woman; I am not happy in my friendships. Listen tome, " and her voice grew low and sweet. "Let me appeal to yourimagination. This light adventure shall be a souvenir for your old age. One night Romance stepped into your life and out of it. Think! Therewill always be the same charm, the same mystery, the same enchantment. Knowing nothing of me, there will follow no disillusions, nodisenchantments; I shall always be Cinderella, or the Sleeping Beauty, or what your fancy wills. Do you understand me?"

He nodded. 

"Nothing, " she proceeded, "nothing lasts so long in the recollection asa pleasant mystery. In other days, in other times. . . . Well, on my side Ishall recall this night pleasantly. Without knowing it, you have givenme a new foothold in life. I did not believe that there lived a singleman who could keep to the letter of his bargain. Presently you willforget the chagrin. Good night! And do not lean out of any morewindows, " she added lightly. 

"You are right, " he said reluctantly. "Something to dream over in my oldage. And certainly I shall dream of it; a flash of sunlight in theshadow. "

Then slowly he reached down toward her wine-glass. She understood hispurpose and essayed to stop him. 

"Do not deny me this little thing, " he said. 

She let her hand fall. He took the glass, held it against the light tosee where her lips had touched it. Carefully he poured out the wine fromthe opposite side and kissed the rim. 

"I shall keep this glass. I must have some visible object to make surethat this hasn't been a dream. Mrs. Sandford may send me the bill. "

"You may kiss my hand, Mr. Hillard. "

He bent quickly and kissed, not the hand, but the wrist where the marksof his fingers still remained faintly. He squared himself, and gazedlong and steadfastly into her eyes. In that moment he seemed to herpositively handsome; and there was a flutter in her heart that she wasunable to define. On his part he realized the sooner he was gone thebetter; there was a limit to his self-control. . . . He gained the streetsomehow. There he stopped and turned. Did the curtain move? He wasn'tsure; but he raised his hat, settled it firmly on his head, and walkedrapidly away. He was rather proud of himself. He had conquered a hundredtemptations. And he confidently knew that it would be many a day beforeshe ceased to think of him. Was she single or married? Well, it matterednot, one way or the other; he knew that long years ago this night hadbeen written and his fate summed up. Unhappy? There was more than onemask. Once in his own room, however, the longing to see her face grewterribly strong. He stood the glass on the mantel and stared at it. Whymust she go out of his life? What obstacle was there to stand betweenthem and a kindly friendship?

There was little sleep for him that night; and in the morning the firstthing he did was to pick up the wine-glass. It was all true. And thenhis good resolutions melted and vanished. He must have one more wordwith her, happen what might. So at ten o'clock he called a cab and droverapidly to the Sandford place. Snow had fallen during the night, andmany of the steps were still spotless white. Impossible! He leaned fromthe cab and rubbed his eyes. Absolutely impossible! For, what did hesee? Wooden shutters over all the lower windows and the iron gatesclosed before the doors! And not a footprint anywhere. This wasextraordinary. He jumped from the cab, ran up the steps, and rang thebell, rang it ten times with minute intervals. And no one answered. Thenhe heard a call from across the street. A man stood in one of thearea-ways. 

"Nobody home!" he shouted. "Gone to Egypt. "

"But there was some one here last night, " Hillard shouted back. 

"Last night? Guess you've got the wrong street and wrong house, youngman. "

"But this is the Sandford place?"

"Nothing else. "

"I was here last night. "

"Dreaming. That house has been empty since November. I happen to be thecaretaker. "

Hillard went back to his cab, dazed. No one there last night? Come, come; there was a mistake somewhere. It was out of the question that hehad been in another house. He would soon find out whether or not he haddined there the night before. 

"A cable-office!" he cried to the cabby. "Hurry!"

Once there he telephoned down-town and secured Sandford's cable address. Then he filled out a blank which cost him ten dollars. Late that nightat the club he received his reply. It was terse. 

 You are crazy. House absolutely empty. SANDFORD. 

CHAPTER VII

THE TOSS OF A COIN

Hillard made an inexcusably careless shot. It was under his hand to haveturned an even forty on his string. He grounded his cue and stood backfrom the table. That was the way everything seemed to go; at tennis, atsquash, at fencing, at billiards, it was all the same. The momentvictory was within his grasp his interest waned. Only last night he hadlost his title as the best fencer in the club; disqualified in thepreliminaries, too, by a tyro who would never cease to brag about theaccident. 

"I say, Jack, what's the matter with you, anyhow?" asked Merrihew, outof patience. "A boy could have made that three-cushion, his hands tiedbehind him. "

"It was bad, " Hillard agreed. "Perhaps I am not taking the interest inthe game that I formerly took. "

"I should say not. You lost me fifty last night. Corlis has no moreright to cross foils with you than I have; and yet he goes in for thefinals, while you are out of it. Where's your eye? Where's your grip?"

Hillard chalked his cue silently. 

"And when I make a proposition, " pursued Merrihew, "to ride to theCatskills and back--something you would have jumped at a year ago--youshake your head. Think of it! Through unbroken roads, nights atfarm-houses, old feather beds, ice in the wash-basin, liver and baconfor breakfast, and off again! Snow or rain! By George, you had a bullytime last year; you swore it was the best trip we ever took on thehorses. Remember how we came back to town, hungry and hardy as Arcticexplorers? Come on; everything is dull down-town. Where's your spirit ofadventure?"

"I'm sure I don't know where it is. Shall we finish the game?"

"Not if you're going to throw it like this, " declared Merrihew. He wasproud of his friend's prowess in games of skill and strength, and he waswroth to see him lose all interest unaccountably. 

"Ten and a string against your half a string, " said Hillard, studyingthe score. "I'll bet a bottle that I beat you. "

"Done!" said Merrihew. Being on his mettle, he made a clean score oftwenty, five to go. "I can see you paying for that check, Jack. "

But the odds tingled Hillard's blood. He settled down to a brilliantplay and turned sixty-one in beautiful form. There were several shotswhich caused Merrihew to gasp. 

"Well, it's worth the price of the bottle. If only you had had that eyelast night! We'll have the bottle in the alcove at the head of thestairs. I want to talk to you. "

So the two passed up-stairs to the secluded alcove, and the bottleshortly followed. Merrihew filled the glasses with the air of one whowould like to pass the remainder of his days doing the same thing. Notthat he was overfond; but each bottle temporarily weeded out that cropof imperishable debts, that Molochian thousand, that Atalanta whosespeed he could not overtake, having no golden apples. To him the worldgrew roseate and kindly, viewed through the press of the sparklinggrape, and invariably he saw fortune beckoning to the card-tables. 

"Now, then, Jack, I've got you where I want you. Who is she?"

"On my word, I don't know, " answered Hillard, stirring restlessly. 

"Then there is a woman!" cried Merrihew, astonished at his perspicacity. "I knew it. Nothing else would so demoralize your nerve. Shall we drinka health to her?"

Hillard raised his glass and touched that of his comrade. For the goodof his soul and the peace of his mind, he then and there determined totell Merrihew the whole adventure, without a single reservation. 

"To the Lady in the Fog!" he said. 

"Fog?" blankly. 

"Well, the Lady in the Mask. "

"Fog, mask? Two of them?"

"No, only one. Once I met her in the fog, and then I met her in themask. "

"I'll drink to her; but I'm hanged if I don't believe you're coddingme, " said Merrihew disappointedly. "This is New York. "

"I know it; and yet sometimes I doubt it. Here's to the lady. "

They drank. Hillard set down his glass; Merrihew refilled his. 

"The whole story, Jack, details and all; no half-portions. "

Hillard told the yarn simply, omitting nothing essential. He even addedthat for three weeks he had been the author of the personal inquiry asto the whereabouts of one Madame Angot. More than that, he was theguilty man who had set the club by the ears. 

"I don't know, Dan, but this has taken so strong a hold on me that Ishan't forget it soon. Imagine it yourself. Oh, but she could sing! I ama man not to be held in the leash of an adventure like this; but sheheld me. How? By the hope that one day I might see her face, with noveil of mystery to hold her off at arm's length. "

Merrihew was greatly excited. He was for ordering a second bottle, butHillard stayed him. 

"By George! And you are sure that it was at the Sandfords'?"

"I am positive. But there is a puzzle that I have failed to solve:Sandford's cable and the caretaker's declaration. I know that I was inthat house. I ran across a stein which I had given Sandford. I haveinquired of the police; they had been requested to watch the house inthe absence of the owner. The patrolman says that he has seen no lightin the house since the family sailed for Africa. I sleep soundly; neverhave nightmares. And yet, but for her letters and the fact that Giovanniheard her sing under my window, I might almost believe I've beendreaming. It is no dream; but it begins to look as if I were the victimof some fine hoax. "

"And Sandford mixed up in it, " supplemented Merrihew. 

"Sandford and I are good friends, but we are not so intimate that he'dtake the pains to work out a hoax of this magnitude. It did notoriginate with him, and his wife is altogether out of the picture. If Ihad only seen her face, I might have forgotten all about her in a fewdays. But the mask, the charm, the mystery! I can't get her out of mythoughts; I am irrational in all I do; an absolute failure in theoffice. "

"It is more than a hoax, in my opinion. Wait till Sandford returns andfinds his silver gone!"

Hillard started. 

"And his gold-plate, " continued Merrihew, pleased with the idea. "Myboy, that's what it is; the best dodge I ever heard of. But how did theyget into the house, she and her maid? It will make a good story for theSunday papers. You won't be in it, unless she ropes you in as anaccomplice. That would be rich!"

"I'm a romantic ass!" Hillard sighed. Leddy Lightfinger! If this turnedout to be the case, he would never trust a human being again; he wouldtake to breeding dogs. 

"Let's take that ride on the horses, " Merrihew urged. "That'll clearyour brain of this sentimental fog. "

"No!" Hillard struck his hands together. "I've a better idea than that, and it has just come to me. I shall go to Italy in March, and you, myboy, shall go with me. "

"Impossible! Why, I'm all but broke. " Merrihew shook his head decidedly. 

"I'll take you as a companion. I'm a sick man, Dan. I'm likely to jumpoverboard if some one isn't watching me every minute. "

"I'd like to go, Jack; Heaven and earth, but I should! But I can'tpossibly go to Italy with a letter of credit no more than twenty-fivehundred, and that's all there is in the exchequer at present. "

"Between such friends as we are--"

"That racket won't work. I could not take a moment's peace if I did notfeel independent. Supposing I wanted to come home and you didn't, or youdid and I didn't? No, Jack; nothing to it that way. " And Merrihew wasright. 

"But I'm not going to give it to you!" Hillard protested. He wasdetermined to break down Merrihew's objections if it took all night. "Iam going to lend it to you. "

"And could I ever pay you back if I accepted the loan?" humorously. "You'll have to invent some other scheme. "

"There's Monte Carlo; you might pull down a tidy sum, " said the tempter. 

"That's the way, you beggar; hit me on the soft side. " But Merrihew wasstill obdurate. To go to Europe was out of the question. 

"Now listen to reason, Dan. If you wait for the opportunity to go toEurope, you'll wait in vain. You must make the opportunity. One musthave youth to enjoy Italy thoroughly. The desire to go becomes less andless as one grows older. Besides, it completes every man's education; itbroadens his charity and smooths down the rough edges of his conceit. I'll put the proposition in a way you can't possibly get round. You'vesimply got to go. You will always have that thousand, so don't worryabout that. You have twenty-five hundred on hand, you say. With that youcan see Italy like a prince for three months. I know the tongue and thecountry; I know what you would want to see, what to avoid, where tostop. "

"What's the proposition?" Merrihew drained the bottle. 

"This: I'll agree to take not a penny more than twenty-five hundredmyself. We'll go on equal terms. Why, " confidently, "besides living likea prince, you'll have four hundred to throw away at roulette. Boy, youhave never seen Italy; therefore you do not know what beauty is. When weeventually land at Bellaggio, on Lake Como, and I take your lily-whitehand in mine and lead you up to the terrace of Villa Serbelloni, andorder tea, then you will realize that you have only begun to live. Gardens, towering Alps, the green Lecco on one side and the green Comoon the other; and Swiss champagne at a dollar-forty the quart! Eh?"

Merrihew produced his black cigar. This matter needed some deepreflection, and could not be determined offhand. The ash turned white onthe end of the cigar before he replied. 

"If you weren't Irish, you'd just naturally be Dago, " he said with alaugh. "But it isn't fair to shoot me up this way, with floweryspeeches. "

"And then, besides all these things, " Hillard added, "there's KittyKilligrew, singing her heart out to a people who can't understand a wordshe's singing. Kitty Killigrew!"

"Can it be done for twenty-five hundred?"

"He's melting!" murmured Hillard jubilantly. "He's melting!"

"For a small amount I'd punch your head!" Merrihew chewed his cigar withsubdued fierceness. He knew very well that he was destined to go toEurope. Kitty Killigrew, who had promised to mail the route they were toplay, and hadn't!

"It is written, Dan, that you shall go with me. Think of running intothe theater and seeing Kitty! I begin to like the music of that name. "

"We'll settle this argument right here and now. " Merrihew drew out acoin. "Call it!" he cried recklessly. 

"Heads!"

The coin flickered in the light, fell, and proved that all money isperverse, by rolling under the davenport upon which they were sitting. An amusing hunt followed. They ran their hands over the floor, turnedthe rug, pulled out the davenport and looked behind, burnt innumerablematches, and finally rang for the attendant. The situation wasexplained, and he procured a candle. He was ultimately successful. 

"Here it is, sir. "

"Don't touch it!" warned Hillard. 

"What is it, head or tail?" asked Merrihew weakly. 

"Heads, sir, " said the attendant, picking up the coin and offering it tothe owner. 

"Keep it, " said Merrihew generously, even sadly. He never got up a gameof chance that he did not get the worst of it. And now, Italy! All thatway from home! "Boy, bring up a bottle of '96. "

"Dan!"

"You be still, " said Merrihew savagely. "You've roped me in nicely, andI'm game to go; but I'll have that bottle if I have to drink it allalone. "

But he did not drink it all alone. Hillard was too wise to permit that. Merrihew might wish to add a few hundred to his letter of credit, viathe card-room. 

"And the Lady in the Mask?" asked Merrihew, as they at length stood up, preparatory to going down-stairs. 

"I must relegate her to the fog she came out of. But it would be afrightful thing if--if--" He hesitated to form the words. 

But Merrihew had no such scruple. "If the silver and plate were missingwhen the Sandfords return?"

"Oh, bosh! It's all some joke, and I'm the butt of it. She was in thathouse by the same authority she rode the horse. "

"A woman of that sort would have no difficulty in hoodwinking thestablemen, " declared Merrihew, certain that he had solved the riddle. 

"And so you add forgery? Not a shred of my romance left!" Hillard spokejestingly, but like a man who covers up a sudden twinge of pain. 

"We'll know all about it in the fall. And ten to one, my theory will bethe correct one. "

"That's better. I have some hope now. You never won a bet in all yourlife. "

"I know it; but this may be the one time. By the way, received a postalfrom Kitty this morning. From Gibraltar. Fine trip. Visited thegun-galleries and the antique furniture shops. Says no sign of primadonna as yet, but believes her to be on board. O'Mally's on thewater-wagon. But Kitty aggravates me. "

"What has she done now--refused you by Marconigraph?"

"No; but she promised me her address. "

"Address her care Cook's, Florence, Rome, Venice. It's the popularmail-box of Europe; and if she has given them the address, they willforward. "

"That helps considerably. I'm glad there's one Cook which can be reliedon. "

"In the morning I'll arrange for passage. We'll try the Celtic. "

"I'll leave the business end of the trip to you. "

"The first Saturday in March, then, if we can get booking. That will bein less than two weeks. "

"I'm game. Shall I pack up my riding-breeches?"

"Prepare for everything except automobiles. "

"Bah! I wouldn't take one as a gift. "

"You couldn't afford to, if what I hear about them is true. Though youmight be able to sell the gift and wipe out that thousand. "

"Hang the thousand! I had almost forgotten it again. "

In the lobby of the club, as they were about to enter the coat-room, Hillard ran into one of several gentlemen issuing. 

"Pardon me, " he said, stepping aside. 

"_Non un importa!_" said the stranger with a graceful wave of the hands. 

Hillard looked quickly into the gentleman's face. "I am clumsy, " he saidin Italian. 

Then the other stared at him, and smiled. For a moment there was a brieftableau, in which each took the other's measure and noted the color ofthe eyes. The man was an exceedingly handsome Italian, for all that ascar ran from his check to his chin. It was all over in a moment; andHillard and Merrihew proceeded to the street. 

"Handsome duffer, " was Merrihew's comment. "But you never can tell a manby his looks. Gaze on me, for instance. I'm a good example of handsomeis as handsome does. " He was growing merry. 

"Go home!" Hillard slapped him jovially on the shoulder. 

"Home? Ah, yes! But shall I have a home to go to when I get back? Youhave roped me in nicely. My poor little twenty-five hundred! But Swisschampagne at a dollar-forty the quart! Well, every cloud has its lining. Say, Jack, how much brighter the world looks after a magnum! And a funnystory's twice as funny. Good night. As for the Lady in the Fog, take thecash and let the credit go. That's my motto. "

As Hillard never received any answer to his personal, he discontinuedit. Truly, she had returned to the fog out of which she had come. But itwas no less difficult for him to take up the daily affairs again;everything was so terribly prosaic now; the zest was gone from work andplay. Italy was the last resort; and the business of giving Merrihew apersonally conducted tour would occupy his mind. Always he was asking:Who was she? What mystery veiled her? Whither had she gone? We never canconjure up a complete likeness. Sometimes it is the eyes, again themouth and chin, or the turn of the throat; there is never any ensembleof features and adornments. And as for Hillard, he really had nothingdefinite to recall, unless it was the striking color of her hair or themellow smoothness of her voice. And could he really remember these? Heoften wished that she had sung under any window but his. 

Giovanni was delighted when he heard the news. He would go, too, and actas valet to the signore and his friend till they put out for Rome. Then, of course, he would be obliged to leave them. Occasionally Hillard wouldreason with him regarding his deadly projects. But when a Latin declaresthat he has seen through blood, persuasions, arguments, entreaties, threats do not prevail. He comforted himself with the opinion, however, that Giovanni's hunt would come to no successful end. 

"You will surely fall into the hands of the police. "

"What God wills comes true. But by this time they will have forgottenme. "

"But you have not forgotten. "

"_Padre mio_, that is different. One obeys the civil law from habit. Between me and the _carabinieri_ there is nothing personal. Thus it iseasy for them to forget. Still, I shall not announce my approach, that Iam Giovanni l'Aguello, returned for arrest. I shall take good care tokeep out of their way. "

"The eagle; that is a good name for you. "

"And once I was as tame as a dove. "

"But your man might be dead. "

"He is not dead. If he were, something would tell me. "

"It is a bad business, and I wish you no luck. "

Giovanni smiled easily. Wishes seldom interfere with any one. 

"I will double your wages, " said Hillard, "if you will go where I go andreturn with me when I come back to America. "

A deprecating movement. "Money? It is nothing. I am rich, after mykind. "

"Are you still in the Church?"

"I confess regularly once a week. Oh, I am a good Catholic. "

"Take yourself off. I am displeased with you. "

The few days before sailing found Merrihew in a flutter of intenseexcitement. He carried his letter of credit about in order to convincehimself during the day that he was really and truly going to Italy. Heforswore the bottle and the illumined royalty of the card-deck, andspent his evenings "studying up" the lay of the land. To be sure, therewas one grand dinner the night before they sailed. Suppose, Merrihewadvanced, for the sake of argument, suppose the ship went down or henever came back, or he was ill all the way over? There would be one gooddinner to remember, anyhow. 

It was a drizzling, foggy morning when they drove down to the boat. There are seldom bright sailing days in the forepart of March. But theatmospheric effects made no impression on the volatile Merrihew. It wasall very interesting to him. And he had an eye for all things, from thebaskets of fruit and flowers, messengers with late orders from thestores, repeated farewells, to the squalling babies in the steerage. Even in the impudent shrieking tugboats he found a measure of delight;and the blur on the water was inviting. 

At four o'clock they were on the high seas, heading for the Azores. Hillard was dreaming and Merrihew was studiously employed over a bookleton _How to Speak Italian in One Day_. There was a moderate sea on. 

By and by Giovanni, who had spent most of the time arranging the luggagein the adjoining staterooms, came up on deck. He had two packets ofletters and telegrams. One he gave to Merrihew and the other to hismaster. 

"I forgot to give the signore his mail at breakfast. The boat-mail hasjust been distributed. " He then went forward. 

Merrihew was greatly pleased with his packet. There were humorousletters and cheery telegrams, containing all sorts of advice in case ofseasickness, how to slip cigars through the customs, where to get thebest post-cards, and also the worst. 

Hillard found among his a bulky envelope post-marked Naples. After heopened it he lay back in his chair and contemplated the ruffled horizon. Naples! He sat up. It had been addressed to the house and the addresstypewritten. 

"Dan?"

"What is it?"

"Look at this!"

"Good Lord!" Dan gasped, his feet coming down to the deck. 

For Hillard was holding up for his inspection a crumpled black silkmask. 

CHAPTER VIII

WHAT MERRIHEW FOUND

The great ship had passed the Isle of Ischia, and now the Bay of Naplesunfolded all its variant beauties. Hillard had seen them many timesbefore, yet they are a joy eternal, a changing joy of which neither theeye nor the mind ever grows weary. Both he and Merrihew were foremost inthe press against the forward rail. To the latter's impressionable mindit was like a dream. In fancy he could see the Roman galleys, thefighting triremes, the canopied pleasure-craft, just as they were twothousand years ago. Yonder, the temples and baths of Nero of the GoldenHouse; thither, the palaces of the grim Tiberius; beyond, Pompeii, withGlaucus, lone, and Nydia, the blind girl. The dream-picture faded andthe reality was no less fascinating: the white sails of the fishermenwinging across the sapphire waters, leaving ribboned pathways behindthat crossed and recrossed like a chart of the stars; proud whitepleasure-yachts, great vessels from all ports in the world; and anoccasional battle-ship, drab and stealthy. And the hundred pink andwhite villages, the jade and amethyst of the near and far islands, thesmiling terraces above the city, the ruined temples, the grim giantash-heap of Vesuvius!

"That is it, " said Merrihew, whose flights of rhetoric were mostsimplified. 

"_Vedi Napoli e poi mori!_" replied Hillard. 

"Hold on, " exclaimed Merrihew. "Pass it out slowly. What's that mean?"

"See Naples and die. "

"I prefer to see it and live. But I am kind of disappointed in Vesuvius. It's not the terrible old Moloch of my geographies that gobbled upcities and peoples. And nobody seems to be afraid of it, " with a gesturetoward the villages nestling with the utmost confidence at the circlingbase. "Not a bit of smoke anywhere. "

"No, my boy, don't speak slightingly of old Vesuvius. It is one of thegreat mysteries of the world. To-morrow that mountain may swallow up thewhole bay, or it may never wake up again. Respect it; I do. When Irecall Herculaneum and Pompeii--"

"Two thousand years ago; that's different. I'm never satisfied, I know, but I should like to see it blow its head off while I'm here. "

"Not I! As I grow older I like comfort and security more and more. Seethat village on the cliffs toward the south? That's Sorrento, where Iwas born. The eruption of '72 happened while I was there, but I was tooyoung to take any particular notice. Sh! Look at Giovanni. "

Merrihew looked at the old Roman. Tears were running down his cheeks, and his gaze strove to pierce the distance to the far-off Sabine Hills. Italy! Yonder his heart and soul had taken root; his native land, hisnative land, and condemned to live in exile from it! Hillard leaned overand touched him on the arm, and he started. 

"Take care, Giovanni. "

"Pardon! I am weak this day, but to-morrow I shall be strong. Sevenyears! Have you not longed for it yourself? Has not your heart gone outmany times across the seas to those cliffs?" pointing to Sorrento. 

"Many times, Giovanni. But remember and control yourself. Presently the_carabinieri_ will come on board. You will see that all our luggage goespromptly to the Bristol, once we are through the customs. "

"Trust me, signore. "

They landed at the custom-house at two in the afternoon, and passedwithout any difficulty. Naples is the easiest port in the world, if youare not a native and you chance to be an uncommercial traveler who iswilling to purchase salt and tobacco of the State. The Italian tobaccois generally bad, and formerly one had to smoke it or go without; butnow the best of imported cigars may be found in all the large cities, cheaper in some respects than those in America, and not a whit inferior, since there is no middleman's profit, buying, as one does, direct fromthe State. The hotels, however, sell the same brands at an outrageousadvance; the proprietor must have his commission, the concierge, thehead-waiter, the waiters, the porters, and the chef, for this slightfavor to the guest. Commission! It means something in sunny Italy. Allthis Hillard explained to Merrihew as they were awaiting theexamination. Merrihew, holding grimly on to his hand-luggage, stoodwaiting for Hillard at the iron gates fronting the railroad. Suddenly abrilliantly uniformed man rushed up to him, bowed, and insisted ontaking the luggage. Merrihew protested feebly. 

"But you are Meestaire Merrihoo, the friend of Meestaire Hil_lar_?"

"Yes. "

"It is all right, then. " The brilliant uniform prevailed, and Merrihewsurrendered the luggage, marveling. Hillard seemed to know every oneover here. 

"Beautiful weather, " said the uniform, as they passed through the gates. 

"Fine, " said Merrihew. From the corner of his eye he inspected the manat his side. Certainly he could be no less than a captain in the navy, with those epaulets and sleeve-bands. 

"This is your first trip to Italy?"

"Yes. You people are very courteous here. "

"Oh, we make that a part of our business. "

A hundred cabmen yelled and shouted; but at a sign from Merrihew's newacquaintance they subsided or turned their attention elsewhere. Thissign of respect made a still deeper impression on Merrihew. 

"I'll bet a dollar he's an admiral!" he thought. 

At length they came to an omnibus. The admiral beckoned to Merrihew tostep in. The luggage was thrown on top. 

"I am very grateful to you, " said Merrihew, offering his hand. 

The admiral shook it somewhat doubtfully, tipped his cap, and wenthurriedly back to the _dogana_, or custom-house. 

Shortly after Hillard appeared. 

"We shan't go up in the omnibus, " he said. "We'll take a carriage. "

Merrihew looked around in vain for his distinguished acquaintance. 

"What did you give the porter?" Hillard asked as they drove off. 

"Porter? I didn't see any porter. "

"Why, the chap who took your luggage from the customs. "

"Good Lord! was that the porter? Why, I thought he was a personal friendof yours and an admiral in the Italian navy. I shook hands with him!"

Hillard shouted with laughter. 

What a noisy, smelly, picturesque city it was! The cries of the hawkers, the importunities of the guides, the venders and cabmen, the whiningbeggars; the clatter of horses and carriages and carts; strollingsingers, goats with tinkling bells, the barking of outcast dogs, and thebrawling and bawling of children, hundreds upon hundreds of children!Merrihew grew dizzy trying to absorb the whole canvas at once. How thesturdy little campagna ponies ran up and down the narrow windingstreets! Crack-crack! went the driver's lash. It possessed a languageall its own. It called, it warned at the turning of the corners, itgreeted friends, it hurled curses at rivals. Crack-crack! tillMerrihew's ears ached. It was all very crowded and noisy till theyreached the upper terrace of the Corso Vittorio; then the sounds becamemurmurous and pleasing. 

Their rooms were pleasantly situated, looking out upon the sparklingbay. Giovanni began at once to unpack the trunks, happy enough to havesomething to occupy him till after dark, when he determined to ventureforth. The dreaded _carabinieri_ had paid him not the slightestattention; so far he was as safe as though he were in New York. 

It was yet so early in the day that the two young men sallied forth inquest of light adventure. Besides, Merrihew was very eager to find someRoman and Florence newspapers. The American Comic Opera Company wassomewhere north. They found stationed outside the hotel a rosy-cheekedcabby who answered to the name of Tomasso, or Tomass', as theNeapolitans generally drop the finals. He carried a bright red lap-robeand blanket, spoke a little English, and was very proud of theaccomplishment. He was rather disappointed, however, when Hillardbargained with him in his own tongue. He saw at once that there would beno imposing on the young _Americano_. The two harangued for a while, ongeneral principles. Twice words rose so high that Merrihew thought theywere about to come to blows. Tomass' shook his fingers under Hillard'snose and Hillard returned the compliment. Finally Tomass' compromised onone-lira-fifty per hour, with fifty centesimi _pourboire_. Crack-crack!Down the hill they went, as if a thousand devils were after them. 

"By George!" gasped Merrihew, clutching his seat; "the fool will breakour necks!"

"They are always like this, " laughed Hillard. "Slowly, slowly!" hecalled. 

Tomass' grinned and cracked his whip. He did not understand the wordslowly in his own tongue or in any other; at least, not till he reachedthe shops. It was business to go slowly there. A dozen times, on the ViaRoma, Merrihew yelled that they would lose a wheel. But Tomass' knew thegame. A man on foot could not have eluded collisions more skilfully. Merrihew never saw such driving. Nor had he ever seen such shops. Coral, coral, wherever the eye roamed. Where did they get it all and to whomdid they sell it? Necklaces, tiaras, rings, brooches, carved anduncarved; were there women enough in the world to buy these things?

"If I had a wife. . . " he began. 

"Well?"

"I'd feel devilish sorry for her husband at this moment. "

"But isn't the color great?" said Hillard. It was good to be in Naplesagain. 

Indeed, on a sunny afternoon, the traveler will find no other streetoffering such a kaleidoscope of luxuriant colors as the Via Roma ofNaples. Behold the greens, the flowers, the cheeses, the shining fish, the bakestuffs, the silver- and goldsmiths, the milliners, thecurio-dens! And the people! Dark-eyed beauties on foot or driving, handsome bearded men, monks, friars, priests, an archbishop in hissplendid carriage, a duke driving tandem, nuns, and children. Anduniforms as thick as poppies in a wheat-field. Officers rode past intheir light blue capes, their gold and scarlet braids and polishedscabbards; the foot-soldiers with their flowing green cock-feathers, policemen with their short swords, the tall and dignified _carabinieri_(always in pairs) with their cocked hats and crimson pompons toweringabove the sea of hats. It seemed to Merrihew that a rainbow had beencaptured and trained accordingly. 

"I never saw so many kids, " he observed; "so many dirty ones, " he added. "Herod would have had his work cut out for him here. Now, where can weget some newspapers? I must know where she is. "

"Presently, " said Hillard. "The Piazza dei Martin, " he directed Tomass'. Then he turned to Merrihew solemnly. "My boy, if you are to travel withme, beware of the Tauchnitz edition. "

"What's that?"

"It's good reading in paper-covers. It is easier to sit in the hotel allday and read Tauchnitz than it is to tramp through churches andgalleries and museums. "

"No Tauchnitz; I promise. " And Merrihew was an inveterate novel reader. 

At the book-shop in the Piazza they found the Rome and Florence papers. Hillard went through them thoroughly, but nowhere did he see anythingrelative to the doings of the American Comic Opera Company. 

"Not a line, Dan. "

"But there must be something in the Florence paper. They should beplaying there yet. "

"Nothing; these papers are two weeks old. "

Merrihew stared blankly at the sheet. "I should like to know what itmeans. "

"We will write to the consulate in Rome. If there has been any troublehe will certainly notify us. I'll write to-night. Now, here's Cook'snext door. We'll ask if there is any mail for Kitty Killigrew. "

But there wasn't, nor had there been; and the name was not on theforwarding books. 

"Looks as if your Kitty were the needle in the haystack. "

"Hang the luck!" Merrihew jammed his hands into his pockets and sulkedwith the world. 

"It is evident that Kitty will not have you. "

"Cut it!" savagely. Pictures and churches and museums were all wellenough, but Merrihew wanted Kitty Killigrew above all the treasures ofearth. It was no longer a passing fancy; he was downright in love. 

When they turned down to the Via Caracciolo, with the full sweep of themagnificent bay at their feet, Merrihew's disappointment softenedsomewhat. It was the fashionable hour. The band was playing near-by inthe Villa Nazionale. Americans were everywhere. Occasionally a strayprincess or countess flashed by, inert and listless against thecushions, and invariably over-dressed. And when men accompanied them, the men (if they were husbands) lolled back, even more listless. Andbeggars of all sorts and descriptions besieged the "very great grandrich Americans. " To the Neapolitan all Americans are rich; they are theonly _forestieri_ who are always ready to throw money about, regardlessof results. The Englishman, now, when the _poveretto_ puts out hisunlovely hand, looks calmly over his head and drives on. The German (andin the spring there are more Germans in Italy than Italians!) is deep inhis Koran, generally, his Karl Baedeker, or too thrifty to notice. It isto the American, then, that the beggar looks for his daily macaroni. 

They were nearly a week in Naples. They saw the galleries, the museumsand churches; they saw underground Naples; they made the weary anduseless ascent of Vesuvius; and Merrihew added a new smell to hiscollection every hour. Pompeii by moonlight, however, was worth athousand ordinary dreams; and Merrihew, who had abundant imagination, but no art with which to express it--happily or unhappily--saw Lytton'sstory unfold in all its romantic splendor. In the dark corners he sawGlaucus, and Sallust, and Arbaces; he could hear the light step of theluxurious Julia, and the tramp of the gladiators; he could hear Ione'svoice in song and the low whisper of Nydia with her roses. "To thelions! Glaucus to the lions!" It would have been perfect had Vesuviusblown off the top of its head at that moment. 

They lingered at Amalfi three days, and dreamed away the hours under thewhite pergola. Merrihew was loath to leave; but Hillard was for going onto Sorrento, for which his heart was always longing. 

A spring rain fell as they took the incline, and it followed them overthe mountains and down into Sorrento. The ruddy oranges hung in clustersover the old walls which lined both sides of the road, walls so old thathistory stops before them doubtfully. And the perfume of the sweet rainmingling with that of the fruit was like nothing Merrihew had eversensed before. They finally drew up in the courtyard of the Hotel de laSirena, and the long ride was at an end. The little garden was white andpink with roses and camellias, and the tubbed mandarins were heavy withfruit. 

"And this is March!" said Merrihew, his thought traveling back to hisown bleak country, where winter is so long and summer is so short. 

Their rooms were on the northeast corner, on the first floor; and fromthe windows they could look down upon the _marina piccola_ and thetideless sea, a sheer hundred and fifty feet below. Everybody welcomedthe Signore Hillard; the hotel was his, and everything and everybody init. Fire? It was already burning in the grate; orange wood, too, thesmoke of which leaves no strong acidulous odor on the air. The SignoreHillard had only to speak, he had only to express a wish; they wouldscour the village to gratify it. Hillard accepted all these attentionsas a matter of course, as a duke or a prince might have accepted them. 

"By George!" whispered Merrihew; "they treat you like a prince here. "

Later, when they were alone, Hillard began to explain. 

"They remember my father; he used to live like a prince in Sorrento. Every time I come here I do the best I can to keep the luster to hisname. To-morrow I shall point out to you the villa in which I was born. A Russian princess owns it now. You will know the place by the petmonkey which is always clambering about the balconies near the porter'slodge. More than that, if the princess is not on the Riviera, I'll takeyou there to tea some afternoon. "

"A real live princess!" said Merrihew. "Is she beautiful?"

"Once upon a time, " returned Hillard, laughing. "And, now, what do yousay to a game of penuchle till dinner, a penny a point?"

Merrihew found two decks of cards, arranged them, and the game began. Itwas all very cheerful, the fire in the grate, the rain on thecasement-windows, the blur on the bay, and the fragrance of twowell-filled pipes. 

There is very little to do in Sorrento at night; no theaters, no bands, no well-lighted cafés, nothing save wandering companies who dance thetarantella in the lobbies of the hotels, the men clumsy in their nativecostumes and the girls with as much grace and figure as so many heifers. It is only in Sicily that the Latin has learned to dance. But thetarantella is a novelty to the sight-seeing tourist, who believes hemust see everything in order to be an authority when he gets back home. 

Giovanni did not return till late that night, and on the morrow Hillardquestioned him. 

"I have been to see a cousin, " said Giovanni, "who lives on the way toEl Deserta. "

"Ah! So you have a cousin here?"

"Yes, signore. "

How old he looked, poor devil! Hillard had not taken particular noticeof him during the past week's excursions. Giovanni had aged ten yearssince they landed. 

"And was this cousin glad to see you? And is he to be trusted?"

"Both, signore. He had some news. She is--dancer in one of the Parismusic-cafés. "

Hillard kindled his pipe thoughtfully. And patiently Giovanni waited, knowing that shortly his master would offer some suggestion. 

"Would you like me to give you the necessary money to go to Paris andbring her back to the Sabine Hills?" he asked softly. 

"I shall go to Paris, signore--after. "

"You will never find him. "

"Who can say?"

"What is his name?" Hillard had never till this moment asked thisquestion. 

"I know it; that is sufficient. He is high, signore, very high; yet Ishall reach him. If I told you his name--"

"There would be the possibility of my warning him. "

"That is why I hesitate. "

"You are a Catholic, Giovanni. "

Giovanni signified that he was. 

"Does not the God of all Catholics, of all Christians, in fact, does Henot say that vengeance is His and that He will repay?"

"But there are so many of us, signore, so many of us small and of slightimportance, that, likely enough, God with all His larger cares has notthe time to remember us. What may happen to him in the hereafter doesnot concern me; for he will certainly be in the purgatory of the richand I in the purgatory of the poor. It must be now, now!"

"Go your own way, " said Hillard, dismissing him; "I shall never urge youagain. "

Giovanni gone, Hillard leaned against the casement. The sun was brightthis morning and the air was clear. He could see Naples distinctly. Below, the fishermen and their wives, their bare feet plowing in the wetsands, were drawing in the nets, swaying their bodies gracefully. Presently the men in the boat landed the catch, and the net sparkledwith living silver. So long as Giovanni was with him, he would bemorally responsible for his actions. He would really be glad when thegrim old Roman took himself off on his impossible quest. 

How the sight of this beach recalled his boyhood! How many times had heand his brilliant mother wandered over these sands, picking up themany-colored stones, or baiting a young star-fish, or searching thecaverns of the piratical Saracens that honeycombed the clifts, or yet, again, taking a hand at the nets! Sometimes he grew very lonely; forwithout a woman, either of one's blood or of one's choice, life holdslittle. Ah, that woman in the mask, that chimera of a night, that fancyof an hour!

And then Merrihew burst in upon him, wildly excited, and flourished thehotel register. 

"Look at this!" he cried breathlessly. He flung the book on the tableand pointed with shaking finger. 

Hillard came forward, and this is what he saw:

 Thomas O'Mally James Smith Arthur Worth La Signorina Capricciosa Kitty Killigrew Am. Comic Opera Co. , N. Y. 

"Kitty has been here!"

"Perfectly true. But I wonder. "

"Wonder about what?" asked Merrihew. 

"Who La Signorina Capricciosa is. Whimsical indeed. She must be themysterious prima donna. "

He studied the easy-flowing hand, and ran his fingers through his hairthoughtfully. Then he frowned. 

"What is it?" asked Merrihew curiously. 

"Nothing; only I am wondering where I have seen that handwritingbefore. "

CHAPTER IX

MRS. SANDFORD WINKS

A week in Sorrento, during which Merrihew saw all the beautiful villas, took tea with the Russian princess, made a martyr of himself trying toacquire a taste for the sour astringent wines of the country, and boughtinlaid-wood paper-cutters and silk socks and neckties and hat-bands, enough, in truth, to last him for several generations; another week inCapri, where, at the Zum Kater Hidigeigei, he exchanged compliments withthe green parrot, drank good beer, played _batseka_ (a game ofbilliards) with the exiles (for Capri has as many as Cairo!) and beatthem out of sundry lire, toiled up to the ledge where the playfulTiberius (see guide-books) tipped over his whilom favorites, bought amarine daub; and then back to Naples and the friendly smells. Hisconstant enthusiasm and refreshing observations were a tonic to Hillard. 

At the hotel in Naples they found a batch of mail. There was a letterwhich held particular interest to Merrihew. It was from the consul atRome, a reply to Millard's inquiries regarding the American Comic OperaCompany. 

"We'll now find out where your charming Kitty is, " Hillard said, breaking the seal. 

But they didn't. On the contrary, the writer hadn't the slightest ideawhere the play-actors were or had gone. They had opened a two weeks'engagement at the Teatro Quirino. There had been a good house on theopening night; the remainder of the week did not show the sale of ahundred tickets. It was a fallacy that traveling Americans had anydesire to witness American productions in Italy. So, then, the managersof the theater had abruptly canceled the engagement. The Americanmanager had shown neither foresight nor common sense. He had, in thefirst place, come with his own scenery and costumes, upon which he hadto pay large duties, and would have to pay further duties each time heentered a large city. His backer withdrew his support; and thepercentage demanded by the managers in Florence, Genoa, Milan and Venicewas so exorbitant (although they had agreed to a moderate term in thebeginning) that it would have been nothing short of foolhardiness to tryto fill the bookings. The singing of the prima donna, however, hadcreated a highly favorable impression among the critics; but she wasunknown, and to be unknown was next to positive failure, financially. This information, the writer explained, had been obtained by personalinvestigation. The costumes and scenery had been confiscated; and themanager and his backer had sailed for America, leaving the members ofthe company to get back the best way they could. As none of the playershad come to the consulate for assistance, their whereabouts wereunknown. The writer also advised Mr. Hillard not to put his money in anylike adventure. Italy was strongly against any foreign invasion, asidefrom the American trolley-car. 

"That's hard luck, " growled Merrihew, who saw his hopes go down thehorizon. 

"But it makes me out a pretty good prophet, " was Hillard's rejoinder. "The Angel's money gave out. Too many obstacles. To conquer a people anda government by light opera--it can't be done here. And so the AmericanComic Opera Company at the present moment is vegetating in some little_pensione_, waiting for money from home. "

Merrihew gnawed the end of his cane. All his pleasant dreams had burstlike soap-bubbles. Had they not always done so? There would be no jauntswith Kitty, no pleasant little excursions, no little suppers after theperformance. And what's a Michelangelo or a Titian when a man's in love?

"Brace up, Dan. Who knows? Kitty may be on the high seas, that is, ifshe has taken my advice and got a return-ticket. I'll give you a dinnerat the Bertolini to-night, and you may have the magnum of any vintageyou like. We'll have Tomass' drive us down the Via Caracciolo. It willtake some of the disappointment out of your system. "

"Any old place, " was the joyless response. "Seems to me that Italy hasall the cards when it comes to graft. "

"America, my boy, is only in the primary department. Kitty's managerforgot the most important thing of the whole outfit. "

"What's that?"

"The Itching Palm. Evidently it had not been properly soothed. Come on;we may run across some of our ship-acquaintances. To-morrow we'll startfor Rome, and then we shall add our own investigations to those of theconsul. "

They had ridden up and down the Via Caracciolo twice when they espied ahuge automobile, ultramarine blue. It passed with a cloud of dust and arumble which was thunderous. Hillard half rose from his seat. 

"Somebody you know?" asked Merrihew. 

"The man at the wheel looked a bit like Sandford. "

"Sandford? By George, that would be jolly!"

"Perhaps they will come this way again. Tomass', follow that motor. "

Sure enough, when the car reached the Largo Vittoria, it wheeled andcame rumbling back. This time Hillard had no doubts. He stood up andwaved his arms. The automobile barked and groaned and came to a stand. 

"Hello, Sandford!"

"Jack Hillard, as I live, and Dan Merrihew! Nell?" turning to one of thethree pretty women in the tonneau. "What did I tell you? I felt it in mybones that we would run across some one we knew. "

"Or over them, " his wife laughed. 

In a foreign land one's flag is no longer eyed negligently andcarelessly, as though it possessed no significance; it now becomes asymbol of the soil wherein our hearts first took root. A popular tune wehave once scorned, now, when heard, catches us by the throat; the merestacquaintance becomes a long-lost brother; and persons to whom we nodindifferently at home now take the part of tried and true friends. Butwhen we meet an old friend, one who has accepted our dinners and withwhom we have often dined, what is left but to fall on his neck and weep?There was, then, over this meeting, much ado with handshaking andcompliments, handshaking and questions; and, as in all cases like this, every one talked at once. How was old New York? How was the winter inCairo? And so forth and so on, till a policeman politely told them thatthis was not a private thoroughfare, and that they were blocking theway. So they parted, the two young men having promised to dine with theSandford party that evening. 

"What luck, Dan!" Hillard was exuberant. 

"Saves you the price of a dinner. "

"I wasn't thinking of that. But I shall find out all about herto-night. "

"Who?"

"The Lady in the Fog, the masquerading lady!"

"Bah! I should prefer something more solid than a vanishing lady. "

"Look here, Dan, I never throw cold water on you. "

"There have been times when it would have done my head good. "

Sandford knew how to order a dinner; and so by the time that Merrihewhad emptied his second glass of Burgundy and his first of champagne, hewas in the haze of golden confidence. He would find Kitty, and when hefound her he would find her heart as well. 

"Say, Jack, " said Sandford, "what did you mean by that fool cable, anyhow?"

Hillard had been patiently waiting for an opening of this sort. "Andwhat did you mean by hoaxing me?"

"Hoaxing you?"

"That's the word. I was in your house that night; I was there as surelyas I am here to-night. "

"Nell, am I crazy, or is it Jack?"

"Sometimes, " said Mrs. Sandford, "when you put the chauffeur in thetonneau, I'm inclined to think that it is you. "

Hillard looked straight into the placid grey eyes of his hostess. Veryslowly one of the white lids drooped. His heart bounded. 

"But really, " continued Sandford seriously, "unless you bribed thecaretaker, you could not possibly have entered the house. You have beendreaming. "

"Very well, then; it begins to look as if I had. " It was apparent toHillard that Sandford was not in his wife's confidence in all things. Healso saw the wisdom of dropping the subject while at the table. To takeup the thread of that romance again! He needed no wine to tingle hisblood. 

They took coffee and liqueur in the glass-inclosed balcony. All Naplessparkled at their feet, and the young moon rose over the SorrentineHills. Sandford and Merrihew and the other two ladies began an animatedexchange of experiences. Hillard found a quiet nook, not far from thelift. He saw that Mrs. Sandford's chair was placed so that she could geta good view of the superb night. He sat down himself, sipped his liqueurmeditatively, drank his coffee, and, as she nodded, lighted a cigarette. 

"Well?" she said, smiling into his brown eyes. She was rather fond ofHillard; a gentleman always, and one of excellent taste. There was neverany wearisome innuendo in his wit nor suggestion in his stories. 

"You deliberately winked at me, " he began. 

"I deliberately did. "

"Sandford is in the dark; I suspected as much. "

"Regarding the wink?"

"Regarding the mysterious woman who occupied your house by your expressauthority, and who rode the hunter in the park. "

"Was there ever a more beautiful picture?" sweeping her hands toward thecity. 

"The beauty of it will last several hours yet. Who and what was she?"

"I wish I could find you a wife; you would make a good husband. "

"Thank you. I am even willing, with your assistance, to prove it. Whowas she, and how came she in your house?"

"She wished that favor, and that her presence in New York should not beknown. Now, describe to me exactly what happened. I am worrying aboutthe plate and the silver. "

He laughed. "And you will meet me half-way?"

"I promise to tell you all I . . . Dare. "

"There is a mystery?"

"Yes. So begin with your side of it. "

He was a capital story-teller. He recounted the adventure in all itscolor; the voice under his window, the personals in the paper, theinterchange of letters, the extraordinary dinner, the mask in theenvelope. She followed him with breathless interest. 

"Charming, charming!" She clapped her hands. "And how well you tell it!You have told it just as it happened. "

"Just as it happened!" confounded for a moment. 

"Exactly. I have had a letter, two, in fact. You did not see her face?"

"Only the chin and mouth. But if I ever meet her again I shall know herby her teeth. "

"Heavens! And how?"

"Two lower ones are gone; otherwise they would be beautiful. "

"Poor man! You have builded your house upon the sands. Her teeth areperfect. She has fooled you. "

"But I saw with these two eyes!"

"There is a preparation which theatrical people use; a kind of gum. Shementioned the trick. Isn't she clever?"

"Yet I shall know her hair, " doggedly. 

She put her hands swiftly to her head. "Now, you have known me foryears. What is the color of my hair?"

"Why, it is blond. "

"Nothing of the kind. It is auburn. If you can not tell mine, how willyou tell hers?"

"I shall probably run after every red-headed woman in Europe till I findher, " humorously. 

"If you can keep out of jail long enough. "

"I shall at any rate remember her voice. "

"That is better. Our ears never deceive half so often as our eyes. "

"Her face is not scarred, is it?"

"Scarred!" indignantly. "She is as beautiful as a Raphael, as lovely asa Bouguereau. If I were a man I should gladly journey round the worldfor the sight of her. "

"I am willing, even anxious. "

"I should fall in love with her. "

"I believe I have. "

"And I should marry her, too. "

"Even that. "

"Come, Mr. Hillard; I am just fooling. You are too sensible a man tofall in love with a shadow, a mask. Your fancy has been trapped, that isall. One does not fall in love that way. "

"You ought to know, " with a sidelong glance at Sandford. 

As her glance followed his, hers grew warm and kindly. Sandford, bychance meeting the look, smiled back across the room. This littleby-play filled Hillard with a sense of envy and loneliness. Atthree-and-thirty a bachelor realizes that there is something else inlife besides business and travel. 

"It is quite useless to ask who she is?" he inquired of his hostess. 

"Quite useless. "

"She is married?"

"Certainly I have not said so. "

He flicked the ash from his cigarette. What was the use of trying totrap a woman into saying what she did not propose to say?

"Have you those letters?"

"One of them I'll show you. "

"Why not the other?"

"It would be wasting time. It merely relates to your adventure. Shesailed the day after you dined with her. "

"That accounts for the shutters. The police and the caretaker werebribed. "

"I suspect they were. "

"If I were a vain man, and you know I am not, I might ask you if shespoke well of me in this letter. Understand, I am not inquiring. "

"But you put the question as adroitly as a woman. We are sure of vanityalways. Yes, she spoke of you. She found you to be an agreeablegentleman. But, " with gentle malice, "she did not say that she wishedshe had met you years ago, under more favorable circumstances, or thatshe liked your eyes, which are really fine ones. "

He had to join in her laughter. 

"Come, give me the death-stroke and have done with it. Tell me what youdare, and I'll be content with it. "

She opened her handkerchief purse and delved among the various articlestherein. 

"I expected that you would be asking questions, so I came prepared. Idid not tell my husband for that very reason. He would have insistedupon knowing everything. Here, read this. It is only a glimpse. "

He searched eagerly for the signature. 

"Don't bother, " she said. "The name is only a nickname we gave her atschool. "

"School? Do you mean to tell me that you went to school with her?Where?"

"In Pennsylvania first; then in Milan. Read. "

 O Cara Mia--If only you knew how sorry I am to miss you! Why must you sail at once? Why not come to my beautiful Venice? True, I could not entertain you as in the days of my good father. But I have so much to say to you that can not be written. You ask about the adventure. Pouf! goes my little dream of greatness. It was a blank failure. Much as I knew about Italy I could not know everything. The officials put unheard-of obstacles in our path. The contracts were utterly disregarded. In the first place, we had not purchased our costumes and scenery in Italy. 

"Costumes and scenery?" Hillard sought the signature again. Mrs. Sandford was staring at the moonlit bay. 

 That poor manager! And that poor man who advanced the money! They forgot that the booking is as nothing, the incidentals everything. The base of all the trouble was a clerk in the consulate at Naples. He wrote us that there would be no duties on costumes and scenery. Alas! the manager and his backer are on the way to America, sadder and wiser men. We surrendered our return tickets to the chorus and sent them home. The rest of us are stranded--is not that the word?--here in Venice, waiting for money from home. If I were alone, it would be highly amusing; but these poor people with me! There is only one way I can help them, but that, never. You recollect that my personal income is quarterly, and it will be two months before I shall have funds. I could get it advanced, but I dare not. There are persons moving Heaven and earth to find me. My companions haven't the least idea who I am; to them I am one of the profession. So here we all are, wandering about the Piazza San Marco, calling at Cook's every day in hopes of money, and occasionally risking a penny in corn for the doves. I am staying with my nurse, my mother's maid, in the Canipo Santa Maria Formosa, near our beloved Santa Barbara. Very quietly I have guaranteed the credit of my unfortunate companions, and they believe that Venetians are very generous people. Generous! Think of it! Come to Venice, dear; it is all nonsense that you must return to America. Perhaps you will wonder how I dared appear on the stage in Italy. A black wig and a theatrical make-up; these were sufficient. A duke sent me an invitation to take supper with him, as if I were a ballerina! I sent one of the American chorus girls, a little minx for mischief. She ate his supper, and then ran away. I understand that he was furious. Only a few months more, Nell, and then I may come and go as I please. Come to Venice. Capricciosa. 

Hillard did not stir. Another labyrinth to this mystery! Capricciosa;Kitty Killigrew's unknown prima donna; and all he had to do was to takethe morning train for Venice, and twenty-four hours later he would beprowling through the Campo Santa Maria Formosa. Though his mind was busywith a hundred thoughts, his head was still bent and his eyes rivetedupon the page. 

Mrs. Sandford observed him curiously, even sadly. Why couldn't his fancyhave been charmed by an every-day, sensible girl, and not by thiswhimsical, extraordinary woman who fooled diplomats, flaunted dukes, andkept a king at arm's length as a pastime? And yet--!

"Capricciosa, " he mused aloud. "That is not her name. "

"And I shall not tell it you. "

"But her given name? Just a straw; something to hold on; I'm a drowningman. " Hillard's pleadings would have melted a heart of stone. 

"It is Hilda. "

"That is German. "

"She prefers it to Sonia. "

"Sonia Hilda; it begins well. May I keep this letter?"

"Certainly not. With that _cara mia_? Give it to me. "

He did so. "Shall I seek her?"

"This is my advice: don't think of her after to-night. If you ever seeor recognize her, avoid her. It may sound theatrical, but she is theinnocent cause of two deaths. These men sought her openly, too. "

"What has she done?"

"She made a great, though common, mistake. "

"Political?"

Her lips closed firmly, but a smile lurked in the corners. 

He sighed. 

"Don't be foolish. I am sorry I let you see the letter. I forgot thatshe told me her hiding-place. "

"Her hiding-place?"

"Mr. Hillard, she is as far removed from your orbit as Mars' is fromJupiter's. Forget her. "

"My orbit is not limited. I shall seek her; when I find her Ishall . . . Marry her. "

But her lips closed again. 

"Sphinx!" he murmured with reproach. 

"I like you too much, Mr. Hillard, to stand by and see you break yourheart against a stone wall. "

"Don't you see, the deeper the mystery is the more powerful theattraction becomes?"

The door to the lift opened and closed noisily, and Hillard turnednegligently. A man sauntered through the room. The moment he came intothe light Hillard's interest became lively enough: It was the handsomeItalian with the scar. 

"Who is that man?" he whispered. "Only a few weeks ago I bumped into himon coming out of the club. "

A swift glance, then her eyes grew unfriendly, her shoulders rigid andrepellent. 

"Do not attract his attention, " she answered in a low tone. "Yes, I knowhim, and I do not wish him to see me. "

"Who is he?" he repeated. 

"A Venetian officer, and a profligate. I entertained him once, but Ilearned from him that I had been ill-advised. "

Hillard saw that this subject would admit of no further questions. Theman with the scar had committed some inexcusable offense, and Mrs. Sandford had crossed him off the list. He knew that the Italian officeris, more or less, a lady's man; and the supreme confidence he has in thepower of brass buttons and gold lace makes him at times insufferable. 

It was after ten when Hillard and his friend took their leave. Theywould not see their host and hostess again till they reached New York. Upon coming out on the Corso, Hillard whistled merrily. 

"Pleasant evening, " was Merrihew's comment. 

Hillard continued to whistle. 

"Good dinner, too. "

The whistle went on serenely, in spite of Merrihew's obvious attempts tochoke it off. 

"You seemed to have a good deal to say to Mrs. Sandford. She knows thelady who was in the house?"

Still the whistle. 

"Say, wake up!" cried Merrihew impatiently. 

"We shall leave in the morning for Venice, " said Hillard, taking up thetune again. 

"Venice? How about Rome and Florence?"

"Which would you prefer: Rome and the antiquities, or Venice and--KittyKilligrew?"

"Kitty in Venice? Are you sure?"

"She is there with La Signorina Capricciosa. Oh, this is a fine world, after all, and I was wrong to speak ill of it this morning. "

"If Kitty's in Venice, I'm an ungrateful beggar, too. But I do not seewhy Kitty's being in Venice excites you. "

"No? Well, fate writes that Kitty's mysterious prima donna and my Ladyof the Mask are one and the same person. "

"No!"

The two, without further words, marched along the middle of the Corso tothe hotel, which was only a few steps away. They entered. The conciergestarted toward them as if he desired to impart some valuableinformation, but suddenly reconsidered, and retreated to his bandbox ofan office and busied himself with the ever-increasing _debours_. Thestrangeness of his movements passed unnoticed by the two men, whocontinued on through the lobby, turning into the first corridor. Hillardinserted his key in the door of his room, unlocked it, and swung itinward. This done, he paused irresolutely on the threshold, and withgood cause. 

"What the devil can this mean?" he whispered to Merrihew, who peeredover his shoulder. 

Two dignified _carabinieri_ rose quickly and approached Hillard. Therewas something in the flashing eyes and set jaws that made him realizethat the safest thing for him to do at that moment was to standperfectly still!

CHAPTER X

CARABINIERI

"Signori, " began Hillard calmly, "before you act, will you not do me thehonor to explain to me the meaning of this visit?"

"It is not he!" said one of the _carabinieri_. "It is the master, andnot the servant. This is Signore Hil_lar_, is it not?" he continued, addressing himself to Hillard. 

"Yes. "

"The signore has a servant by the name of Giovanni?"

"Yes. And what has he done to warrant this visit?" Hillard asked lesscalmly. 

"It is a matter of seven years, " answered the spokesman. "Your servantattempted to kill an officer in Rome. Luigi here, who was theninterested in the case in Rome, thought he recognized Giovanni in thestreet to-day. Inquiries led us here. "

"Ah!" Hillard thought quickly. "I am afraid that you have had yourtrouble for nothing. Giovanni is now a citizen of the United States, under full protection of its laws, domestic and foreign. It would not bewise for you to touch him. "

The _carabinieri_ stared at each other. They shrugged. 

"Signore, we recognize no foreign citizenship for our countrymen who, having committed a crime, return to the scene of it. We are here toarrest him. He will be tried and sentenced. But it is possible that hemay be allowed to return to America, once he has been proved guilty ofintent to kill. "

Hillard flushed, but he curbed the rise in his temper. It was enoughthat the United States was made the dumping-ground of the criminalcourts of Europe, without having it forced upon him in thissemi-contemptuous fashion. The _carabinieri_ saw the effort. 

"The signore speaks Italian so well that he will understand that we havenothing to do with deportation. Our business is simply to arrestoffenders against the State. It is to the State you must look forredress; and here the State is indifferent where the offender goes, solong as it is far away. " The speaker bowed ceremoniously. 

"Yes, I understand. But I repeat, my servant is a legal citizen of theUnited States, and there will be complications if you touch him. "

"Not for us. That rests between you and the State. Our orders are toarrest him. "

"At any rate, it looks as though Giovanni had been forewarned of yourvisit. And may I ask, what is the name of the officer Giovanni attemptedto kill?"

"It is not necessary that you should know. "

Hillard accepted the rebuke with becoming grace. 

"And now, signore, " with the utmost courtesy, "permit us to apologizefor this intrusion. We shall wait in the hall, and if we find Giovanniwe shall gladly notify you of the event. "

The two officers bowed and passed out into the corridor. Hillard raisedhis hat, and closed the door. 

"Now, what the deuce has all this powwow been about?" demanded Merrihew;for he had understood nothing, despite his _How to Speak Italian in OneDay_. 

"It's that rascal Giovanni. "

"Did he find his man and cut him up?"

"No. It seems that these carabinieri have remark-able memories; the oldaffair. Poor devil! I can't imagine how they traced him here. But Irepeatedly warned him about going abroad in the daylight. Hello, what'sthis?" going to the table. It was a note addressed to him; and it wasfrom the fugitive. 

 My kind master--The _carabinieri_ are after me. But rest easy. I was not born to rot in a dungeon. I am going north. As for my clothes, send them to Giacamo, the baker, who lives on the road to El Deserta. He will understand. May the Holy Mother guard you, should we never meet again!

Hillard passed the note to Merrihew. 

"That's too bad. I've taken a great fancy to him. It seems that thepeasant has no chance on this side of the water. His child a painteddancer in Paris, and a price on his own head! It's hard luck. And thefellow who caused all this trouble goes free. "

"He always goes free, Dan, here or elsewhere. "

"Why, we'd have lynched him in America. "

"That's possible. We are such an impulsive race, " ironically. "Yes, nodoubt we'd have lynched him; and these foreigners would have addedanother ounce of fact to their belief that we are still barbarians. "

"I hadn't thought of that, " Merrihew admitted. Till now he had nevercared particularly whether a foreigner's opinion was favorable or not. 

"No, but when you start for home you will always think of it. Ourreporters demand of the foreigner, barely he has stepped ashore, what hethinks of the United States; and then nearly every one he meets helps toform the opinion that we are insufferably underbred. Ours is not studiedincivility; it is worse than that; it is downright carelessness. "

"I am beginning to see things differently. When the concierge tips hishat, I tip mine. Since Giovanni is gone, suppose we pack up? There'slittle to do, as the trunks are as we left them. But I say, how is itthat all these _carabinieri_ we see are so tall? The Neapolitan isinvariably short and thick-set. "

"They come from the north as far as Domo d'Ossola; mountaineers. Italyhas a good policy regarding her military police. The Neapolitan is sentnorth and the Venetian and Tuscan south, out of reach of family ties andfeuds. Thus, there is never any tug between duty and friendship. Thetruth is, the Italian is less inclined toward duty than towardfriendship. This isolation makes the _carabinieri_ the right hand of thearmy, and no other soldier in Europe is half so proud of his uniform, not even the German. The people smile as they pass, you will noticealways in pairs; but when they are in trouble, these weather-vanepeople, they fly straight to the _carabinieri_. Imagine the cocksurenessand insolence we'd have suffered from two New York policemen, had wefound them in our homes! Oh, I have a soft spot for the _carabinieri_. You will find no brigands in Italy now; that is because the_carabinieri_ are everywhere, silent, watchful, on highways, in themountains, in all villages and in all stations. I have never seen one ofthem ogle a woman. And never ask them where your hotel is, or thestation, or such and such a street. They will always tell you, but theysecretly resent it. "

"I'll remember; but so far as I'm concerned, they'd have an easy time ofit. Why, I couldn't ask a question in billboard Italian. Now, out withit; where and how did you learn that Kitty is in Venice?"

Hillard told him briefly. 

"And so they are all in Venice, broke? By George, here's our chance;everlasting gratitude and all that. We'll bail 'em out and ship 'emhome! How is that for a bright idea?" Merrihew had regained his usualenthusiasm. 

"Let me see, " said Hillard practically. "There are five of them: fivehundred for tickets and doubtless five hundred more for unpaid hotelbills. It would never do, Dan, unless we wish to go home with them. "

"But I haven't touched my letter of credit yet. I could get along on twothousand. "

"Not with the brand of cigars you are smoking; a lira-fifty each. "

"Well I'll try the native brand for a while, _Trabucos_. "

"Not in my immediate vicinity, " Hillard objected. "No, we can't bailthem out, but we can ease up their bills till money comes from home. Notone of them by this time will have a watch. O'Mally will remain soberfrom dire necessity. Poor Kitty Killigrew! All the wonderful shops andnot a stiver in her pockets!"

"Aren't they the most careless lot, these professional people? Theynever prepare for emergencies, and are always left high and dry. Insteadof putting their cash in banks, they buy diamonds, with the idea thatthey have always something convertible into cash at a moment's notice. "

"Usually at one-third of what the original price was. " Hillard threw offhis hat and coat and lighted his pipe. 

Merrihew paced the floor for some time, his head full of impossibleschemes. He stopped in the middle of the room with an abruptness whichportended something. 

"I have it. Instead of going directly to Venice, we'll change the routeand go to Monte Carlo. I'll risk my four hundred, and if I win!"

"Then the announcement cards, a house-wedding, and pictures in the NewYork papers. Dan, you are impossible. You have gambled enough to knowthat when you are careless of results you win, but never when you needthe cash. But it is Monte Carlo, if you say so. Two or three days therewill cure you of your beautiful dream. After all, " with a secondthought, "it's a good cause, and it might be just your luck to win. Themasquerading lady! I'll stake my word that there is comedy withincomedy, and rare good comedy at that. Monte Carlo it is. "

Merrihew danced a jig. Hillard stepped to the mirror and bowedprofoundly. The jig ceased. 

"Madame, permit me, a comparative stranger, to offer you passage moneyhome. We won it at Monte Carlo; take it, it is yours. Polite enough, "mused Hillard, turning and smiling; "but hanged if it sounds proper. "

"To the deuce with propriety!" cried Merrihew buoyantly. "We'll start, then, at nine to-morrow?"

"At nine promptly. "

"I'm off to bed, then. " As Merrihew reached the door he paused. "Iforgot to tell you. Do you recollect that Italian you ran into at theclub that night? Saw him at the hotel to-night. He bowed to Sandford, and Sandford cut him dead. It set me thinking. "

"The Sandfords entertained him somewhere, once upon a time, and hebehaved like a cad. I don't know what about, and I don't care. "

"Humph! I hope Giovanni gets off safely. "

"I think he will. "

When Merrihew had gone Hillard opened the shutters to clear the room ofthe tobacco smoke, and stood beside the sill, absorbing the keen nightair and admiring the serene beauty of the picture which lay spreadbefore him. The moon stood high and clear now, the tiled roofs shonemistily, and from some near-by garden came the perfume of boxwood androses. All was silence; noisy Naples slept. He would see her face thistime; he would tear aside the mystery. She had made a great mistake?That was of small consequence to him. He could laugh at Mrs. Sandford'swarning. He was no green and untried youth; he was a man. Then helaughed aloud. It was so droll. Here was Merrihew in love with thesoubrette, and he himself. . . . _Was_ he in love, or was only his fancytrapped? A fine comedy! The soubrette and the prima donna! He closed theshutters, for the Neapolitan is naturally a thief, and an open window isas large as a door to him. He packed his cases, and this done, went tobed. For a time he could hear Merrihew in the adjoining room; but eventhis noise ceased. Hillard fell asleep and dreamed that he and Giovanniwere being pursued by _carabinieri_ in petticoats and half-masks, thatMerrihew had won tons of napoleons at Monte Carlo, and that KittyKilligrew was a princess in disguise. Such is the vagary of dreams. 

CHAPTER XI

THE CITY IN THE SEA

From her window Kitty looked down on the Campo which lay patched withblack shadows and moonshine. A magic luster, effective as hoar-frost, enveloped the ancient church, and the lines of the eaves and the turnsof the corners were silver-bright. How still at night was this fairycity in the sea! Save for the occasional booming of bells--and in Italythey are for ever and ever booming--and the low warning cry of thegondoliers, there was nothing which spoke of life, certainly not here inthe Campo Santa Maria Formosa. There were no horses clattering over thestone pavements, no trams, no omnibuses; the stillness which was ofpeace lay over all things. And some of this had entered Kitty's heart. She was not deeply read, but nevertheless she had her share of poeticalfeeling. And to her everything in the venerable city teemed withunexpressed lyric. What if the Bridge of Sighs was not true, or the fairDesdemona had not dwelt in a palace on the Grand Canal, or the Merchanthad neither bought nor sold in the shadow of the Rialto bridge?Historians are not infallible, and it is sometimes easier and pleasanterto believe the poets. 

But for one thing the hour would have been perfect. Kitty, ordinarilybrave and cheerful, was very lonesome and homesick. Tears sparkled inher eyes and threatened to fall at any moment. It was all very well todream of old Venice; but when home and friends kept intrudingconstantly! The little bank-account was so small that five hundred wouldwipe it out of existence. And now she would be out of employment tillthe coming autumn. The dismal failure of it all! She had danced, sung, spoken her lines the very best she knew how; and none had noticed orencouraged her. It was a bitter cup, after all the success at home. Ifonly she could take it philosophically; like La Signorina! She shut hereyes. How readily she could see the brilliant, noisy, friendly Broadway, the electric signs before the theaters, the gay crowds in therestaurants! It was all very fine to see Europe on a comfortable letterof credit, but to see it under such circumstances as these, that was adifferent matter. To live in this evil-smelling old tenement, withseldom any delicacy to eat, a strange jabber-jabber ringing in one'sears from morning till night, and to wait day after day for that letterfrom home, was not a situation such as would hearten one's love ofromance. The men had it much easier; they always do. There was ever someplace for a man to go; and there were three of them, and they could talkto one another. But here, unless La Signorina was about--and she had anodd way of disappearing--she, Kitty, had to twiddle her thumbs or talkto herself, for she could understand nothing these people, kindly enoughin their way, said to her. 

She opened her eyes again, and this time the tears flowed unheeded. Ofwhat use is pride, unless it be observed by others? She missed some one, a frank, merry, kind-hearted some one; and it was balm to her heart toadmit it at last. Had he appeared to her at that moment, she must havefallen gratefully into his arms. 

And there were so many things she could not understand. Why should LaSignorina always go veiled? Why should she hide her splendid beauty?Where did she disappear so mysteriously in the daytime? And thosesapphires, and diamonds, and emeralds? Why live here, with such afortune hanging round her neck? Kitty forgot that, for the sake ofsentiment, one will sometimes eat a crust when one might dine like aprince. 

"Kitty?" The voice came from the doorway. Kitty was startled for amoment, but it was only La Signorina. Kitty furtively wiped her eyes. 

"I am over here by the window. The moon was so bright I did not lightthe lamp. "

La Signorina moved with light step to the window, bent and caughtKitty's face between her hands and turned it firmly toward the moon. 

"You have been crying, _cara_!"

"I am very lonely, " said Kitty. 

"You poor little homeless bird!" La Signorina seized Kitty impulsivelyin her arms. "If I were not--" She hesitated. 

"If you were not?"

"If I were not poor, but rich instead, I'd take you to one of thefashionable hotels. You are out of place here, in this rambling oldruin. "

"Not half so much as you are, " Kitty replied. 

"I am never out of place. I can live comfortably in the fields with thepeasants, in cities, in extravagant hotels. It is the mind, my dear, notthe body. My mind is always at one height; where the body is does notmatter much. "

There was a subtle hauteur in the voice; it subdued Kitty'sinquisitiveness. And no other woman had, till recently, accomplishedthis feat. Kitty was proud, but there was something in her companionthat she recognized but could not express in words. 

"Come!" said the older woman. "I myself am lonely and desperateto-night. I am going to throw away a precious bit of silver on agondolier. We haven't been out three times together since we arrived. Perhaps it would have been better had we all remained in Rome; but thereI could not have helped you. The band plays in the Piazza to-night. Theyare going to play light opera, and it will tone us both up a bit. Morethan that, we'll have coffee at Florian's, if we can find a table. To-morrow we may have to do without breakfast. But there's the oldsaying that he who sleeps dines. _Avanti!_"

"Sometimes, " said Kitty, drying the final tear, "sometimes I am afraidof you. "

"And wisely. I am often afraid of myself. I always do the first thingthat enters my head, and generally it is the wrong thing. Never mind. The old woman here will trust us for some weeks yet. " She leaned fromthe window and called. "Pomp-_e_-o!"

From the canal the gondolier answered. 

"Now then!" said the woman to the girl. 

Kitty threw a heavy shawl over her head and shoulders, while the otherwound about her face the now familiar dark grey veil; and the two wentdown into the Campo to the landing. Kitty longed to ask La Signorina whyshe invariably wore that veil, but she did not utter the question, knowing full well that La Signorina would have evaded it frankly. 

Pompeo threw away his cigarette and doffed his hat. He offered his elbowto steady the women as they boarded; and once they were seated, a goodstroke sent the gondola up the canal. The women sat speechless for sometime. At each intersection Pompeo called right or left musically. Sometimes the moon would find its way through the brick and marblecañon, or the bright ferrule of another gondola flashed and disappearedinto the gloom. Under bridges they passed, they glided by littlerestaurants where the Venetians, in olden days, talked liberty forthemselves and death to the Austrians, and at length they came out uponthe Grand Canal where the Rialto curves its ancient blocks of marble andstalactites gleam ghostly overhead. 

"There, this is better. "

"It is always better when you are with me, " said Kitty. 

For years Kitty had fought her battles alone, independent andresourceful; and yet here she was, leaning upon the strong will of thisremarkable woman, and gratefully, too. It is a pleasant thing to shiftresponsibility to the shoulders of one we know to be capable of bearingit. 

"Now, my dear Kitty, we'll just enjoy ourselves to-night, and on ourreturn I shall lay a plan before you, and to-morrow you may submit it tothe men. It is as usual a foolish plan, but it will be something of anadventure. "

"I accept it at once, without knowing what it is. "

"Kitty Killigrew, " mused La Signorina. "The name is as pretty as youare. Pretty Kitty Killigrew; it actually sings. " Then she addedsolemnly: "Never change it. There is no man worth the exchange. "

Kitty was not wholly sure of this, so she made no response. 

"What a beautiful palace!" she cried presently, pointing to a house indarkness, not far from the house of Petrarch. It was only the interiorof the house that was in darkness. The moon poured broadly upon it. Theleaning gondola-posts stood like sleeping sentinels, and the tidemurmured over the marble steps. 

Pompeo, seeing Kitty's gesture and not understanding her words, swungthe gondola diagonally across the canal. 

"No, no, Pompeo!" La Signorina spoke in Italian. "I have told you neverto go near that house without express orders. Straight ahead. "

The gondola at once resumed its former course. Never did Pompeo take atourist down the Grand Canal that he did not exalt in his best Italianand French the beauties of yonder empty palace. Had he not spent hisyouth in the service of the family? It was only of late years thatPompeo had become a public gondolier, with his posts in the standfronting the Hotel de l'Europe. 

"_A-oel!_ Look out!" he called suddenly. Another gondola scrapedalongside and passed on. 

"Who lives there?" asked Kitty. 

"Nobody, " answered La Signorina. "Though once it was the palace of agreat warrior. How picturesque the gondolas look, with their dancingdouble lights! Those without numbers are private. "

"The old palace interests me more than the gondolas, " declared Kitty. 

But La Signorina was not to be trapped. 

Presently they passed the row of great hotels, with their balconieshanging over the water and their steps running down into it. Kitty eyedthem all regretfully. She saw men and women in evening dress, and shewas sure that they had dined well and were happy. Without doubt therewere persons who knew her by name and had seen her act. From the GrandCanal they came out into the great Canal of San Marco, the beginning ofthe lagoon. Here Kitty forgot for the moment her troubles; herdream-Venice had returned. There were private yachts, Adriatic liners, all brilliant with illumination, and hundreds of gondolas, bobbing, bobbing, like captive leviathans, bunched round the gaily-lanternedbarges of the serenaders. There was only one flaw to this perfect dream:the shrill whistle of the ferry-boats. They had no place here, and theirpresence was an affront. 

"How I hate them!" said La Signorina. "The American influence! Some daythey will be filling up the canals and running trams over them. What isbeauty and silence if there be profit in ugliness and noise?"

"La Signorina--" began Kitty. 

"There! I have warned you twice. The third time I shall be angry. "

"Hilda, then. But I am afraid whenever I call you that. You do notbelong to my world. "

"And what makes you think that?" There was a smile behind the veil. 

"I do not know, unless it is that you are at home everywhere, in theCampo, in the hotels, in the theater or the palace. Now, I am at homeonly in the theater, in places which are unreal and artificial. You area great actress, a great singer; and yet, as O'Mally would say, youdon't belong. " Kitty had forgotten what she had started out to say. 

La Signorina laughed. "Pouf! You have been reading too many novels. Tothe _molo_, Pompeo. "

At the _molo_, the great quay of Venice, they disembarked. The whilomprima donna dropped fifty centesimi into Pompeo's palm, and he bowed tothe very gunwale of the boat. 

"_Grazie, nobilità. _"

"What does he say?" asked Kitty. 

"He says, 'Thanks, nobility. ' If I had given him a penny itwould have been thanks only. For a lira he would have added_principessa_--princess. The gondolier will give you any title youdesire, if you are willing enough to pay for it. We shall return onfoot, Pompeo; this will be all for the night. "

Pompeo lifted his hat again, and pushed off. 

"He was very cheap, " said Kitty. "Only ten cents for a ride like that!"

A ripple of laughter greeted this remark. "Pompeo can read human nature;he knows that I am honest. What I gave him was a tip. "

"Aren't you laughing at me sometimes?"

"Disabuse your mind of that fancy, _cara_. It is a long time since Igave my affections to any one, and I do give them to you. " With this shecaught Kitty by the arm, and the two went up the Piazzetta leisurelytoward the Piazza. 

The Piazza San Marco, or Saint Mark, is the Mecca of those in search ofbeauty; here they may lay the sacred carpet, kneel and worship. There isnone other to compare with this mighty square, with its enchantingsplendor, its haunting romance, its brilliant if pathetic history. Light, everywhere light; scintillating, dancing, swinging light! Sparsand lances of light upon the shivering waters, red and yellow and white!Light, the reflective radiance of jewels and happy eyes! Light, breakingagainst the pink and white marbles, the columns of porphyry, malachite, basalt, and golden mosaics! Let the would-be traveler dream of it neverso well; he will come to find his dreams vanquished. Nothing changes inthe Piazza San Marco, nothing save the tourists and the contents of thebewildering shops; all else remains the same, a little more tarnished bythe sea-winds and the march of the decades, perhaps, but still the same. Read your poets and study your romances, but delve into nodisillusioning guide-books. Let us put our faith in the gondolier; forhis lies are far more picturesque than a world of facts. 

There were several thousand people in the square to-night, mostlytravelers. The band was playing selections from Audran's whimsical _LaMascotte_. The tables of the many cafés were filled, and hundreds walkedto and fro under the bright arcades, or stopped to gaze into theshop-windows. Here the merchant seldom closes his shop till the bandgoes home. Music arouses the romantic, and the romantic temperament isalways easy to swindle, and the merchant of Venice will swindle you ifhe can. 

The two women saw no vacant tables at Florian's, but presently theyespied the other derelicts--O'Mally, Smith, and Worth--who managed tofind two extra chairs. They learned that O'Mally had had two beers, avast piece of recklessness. He was ripe for anything, and gaily welcomedhis fellow unfortunates. He laughed, told funny stories, and madehimself generally amusing. Smith made weak attempts to assist him. Onthe other hand, Worth seldom smiled and rarely spoke. 

Through her veil their former prima donna studied them carefully, with apurpose in mind. The only one she doubted was Worth. Somehow he annoyedher; she could not explain, yet still the sense of annoyance was alwaysthere. It might have been that she had seen that look in other eyes, andthat it usually led to the same end. She could not criticize hisactions; he was always the perfection of courtesy to her, neveroverstepped, never intruded. 

"Gentlemen, " she said during a lull, "I have a plan to propose to youall. "

"If it will get us back to old Broadway before we are locked up fordebt, let us have it at once, by all means, " said O'Mally. 

"Well, then, I propose to wait no longer for letters from home. The lastboat brought nothing; it will be fourteen days before the next arrives, since you all tell me that you wrote to have your mail sent by theMediterranean. My plan is simple. They say that a gambler always winsthe first time he plays. Taking this as the golden text, I propose thateach of you will spare me what money you can, and Kitty and I will go toMonte Carlo and take one plunge at the tables. "

"Monte Carlo!" O'Mally brought down his fist resoundingly. "That's agood idea. If you should break the bank, think of the advertisement whenyou go back to New York. La Signorina Capricciosa, who broke the bank atMonte Carlo, will open at the--"

"Be still, " said Worth. 

"Dash it, business is business, and without publicity there isn't anybusiness. " O'Mally was hurt. 

"Mr. O'Mally is right, " said La Signorina. "It would be a goodadvertisement. But your combined opinion is what I want. "

The three men looked at one another thoughtfully, then drew out theirwallets, thin and worn. They made up a purse of exactly one hundred andfifty dollars, not at all a propitious sum to trap elusive fortune. Butsuch as it was, O'Mally passed it across the table. This utterconfidence in her touched La Signorina's heart; for none of them knewaught of her honesty. She turned aside for a moment and fumbled with thehidden chain about her neck. She placed her hand on the table and openedit. O'Mally gasped, Smith opened his mouth, and Worth leaned forward. Anemerald, a glorious green emerald, free from the usual cluster ofdiamonds, alone in all its splendor, lay in the palm of her hand. 

"I shall give this to you, Mr. O'Mally, " said the owner, "till I return. It is very dear to me, but that must not stand in the way. "

"Ye gods!" cried O'Mally in dismay. "Put it away. I shouldn't sleep o'nights with that on my person. Keep it. You haven't the right idea. We'll trust you anywhere this side of jail. No, no! It wouldn't do atall. But you're a brick all the same. " And that was as near familiarityas O'Mally ever came. 

She turned to Smith, but he put out a hand in violent protest; then toWorth, but he smiled and shook his head. 

"O'Mally is right, " he said. "We need no guaranty. "

She put the ring away. It was her mother's. She never would smile insecret at these men again. They might be vain and artificial and alwaystheatrical, but there was nevertheless a warm and generous heartbeneath. 

"Thank you, " she said quietly. "If I lose your money we will all go toFlorence. I have another plan, but that will keep till this one underhand proves a failure. None of you shall regret your confidence in me. "

"Pshaw!" said O'Mally. 

"Nonsense!" said Smith. 

And Worth smiled reassuringly. 

O'Mally beckoned to a waiter. "_Oony_ bottle _vino dee Asti, caldo, frappé_!" he said loudly, so that all might hear him give the order. Amonth in Venice, and he would be able to talk like a native. True, ifany Italian spoke to him, he was obliged to shake his head; but that wasa trifling matter. 

"Tom!" warned Smith. 

"You let me alone, " replied O'Mally. "A quart of Asti won't hurtanybody. "

So the thin sweet wine of Asti was served, and La Signorina toasted themall gratefully. 

Early the next morning she and Kitty departed for Monte Carlo in questof fortune. Fortune was there, waiting, but in a guise whollyunexpected. 

CHAPTER XII

A BOX OF CIGARS

On the way up to Rome Hillard and his pupil had a second-classcompartment all to themselves. The train was a fast one; for the day ofslow travel has passed in Italy and the cry of speed is heard over theland. The train stopped often and rolled about a good deal; but thecushions were soft, and there was real comfort in being able to stretchout full length. Hillard, having made this trip many times, took theforward seat and fell into a doze. 

Merrihew was like a city boy taking his first trip into the country. Hehung out of the window, and smoked and smoked. Whenever the train sweptround a curve he could look into the rear carriages; and the headssticking out of the thirds reminded him of chicken-crates. Never had heseen such green gardens, such orange and lemon groves, such forests ofolives. Save that it was barren rock, not a space as broad as a man'shand was left uncultivated; and not a farm which was not in good repair. One saw no broken fences, no slovenly out-houses, no glaringadvertisements afield: nobody was asked impertinently if Soandso's soaphad been used that morning, nor did the _bambini_ cry forsoothing-syrups. Everything was of stone (for wood is precious inItaly), generally whitewashed, and presenting the smiling countenance ofcomfort and cleanliness. The Italian in the city is seldom clean; there, it is so easy to lie in the gutters under the sun. Reared and bred inlaziness for centuries, dirt has no terrors, but water has. With hisbrother in the country it is different. Labor makes him self-respecting. Merrihew had seen so many dirty Sicilians and Neapolitans working onAmerican railways that he had come to the conclusion that Italy was themost poverty-stricken country in the world. He was now forming newopinions at the rate of one every hour. 

How pretty were the peasants in the fields with their bright bits ofcolor, a scarlet shawl, a skirt of faded blue, a yellow kerchief roundthe head! And the great white oxen at the plows! Sometimes he saw astrange, phantom-like, walled town hanging to some cliffs far away. Itdisappeared and reappeared and disappeared again. Never a chimney withthe curling black smoke of the factory did he see above any of theseclustered cities. When he recalled to mind the pall of soft-coal smokewhich hangs over the average American city, he knew that while Italymight be cursed with poverty she had her blessing in fine clear skies. And always, swinging down the great roads, he saw in fancy the ghosts ofarmies, crusaders, mercenaries, feudal companies, crossbowmen, andknights in mail. 

It amused him to see the buxom women flagging the train at crossings. And the little stations, where everybody rushed out to buy a drink ofbottled water! Suddenly the station-master struck a bell, the conductortooted a horn, and the engine's shrill whistle shrieked; and off theyflew again. No newsboy to bother one with stale gum, rank cigars, ancient caramels and soiled novels; nothing but solid comfort. And oh!the flashing streams which rushed under bridges or plunged alongside. Merrihew's hand ached to hold a rod and whip the green pools where thefallen olive leaves floated and swam like silver minnows. Half a dozentimes he woke Hillard to draw his attention to these streams. ButHillard disillusioned him. Rarely were there any fish, nor were thesewaters drinkable, passing as they did over immense beds of lime. 

There was a change of cars at Rome and a wait of two hours. Hillard ledthe way to a popular café in the Piazza delle Terme, near the station. Here they lunched substantially. In that hour or so Merrihew saw morevaried uniforms than he had seen in all his past life; perambulatingparrakeets which glittered, smoked cigarettes or black cigars withstraws in them, and drank coffee out of tumblers. He readily imaginedthat he was surrounded by enough dukes and princes and counts to run adozen kingdoms, with a few left over for the benefit of the Americanmarket. He was making no mistakes now; he could distinguish a generalfrom a hotel concierge without the least difficulty. 

And still Americans, everywhere Americans; rich and poor Americans, loudand quiet Americans; Americans who had taste and education, and some whohad neither; well-dressed and over-dressed, obtrusive and unobtrusive, parvenu and aristocrat. Once Merrihew saw a fine old gentleman wearingthe Honor Legion ribbon in his buttonhole, and his heart grew warm andproud. Here was an order which was not to be purchased like the Order ofLeopold and the French Legion of Honor. To win this simple order a manmust prove his courage under fire, must be the author of an heroicexploit on the battle-field. And besides, there was this advantage: toservants in Europe a button or a slip of ribbon in the lapel signifiesan order, a nobility of one sort or another, and as a consequence theytreat the wearer with studied civility. 

"I wish I had remembered, " sighed Merrihew, after gazing at the oldgentleman. 

"Remembered what?"

"Why, I've got a whole raft of medals I won at college. I could wearthem quite handily over here. "

"Buy an order. Any pawnshop will have a few for sale. You could wear itin Switzerland or France, and nobody would be any the wiser. "

"But I'm serious. "

"So am I. "

Merrihew brightened, reached into a vest pocket, and to Hillard's horrorproduced a monocle, which he gravely screwed in his eye. 

"Where the--"

"Sh! If you make me laugh I'll drop it. "

Merrihew stared about calmly and coldly, as he had seen some Englishmendo. A waiter, seeing the sun flash on the circle of crystal, hurriedover, firmly believing he had been heliographed. 

"_Niente_, " said Merrihew, waving him aside. "You see?" he whispered toHillard, who was rather amused at this tomfoolery. "Brings 'em without aword. Hanged if I don't wear it the rest of the trip. There's acertain--whatdyecallit?--eclaw about the demmed thing. "

"Wear it, by all means. You'll be as amusing as a comic weekly. But ifyou ever drop it, I'll step on it accidentally. "

"I can keep it in my eye all right, " said Merrihew, "so long as I don'tlaugh. Now, while there's time, let us see some of the sights; theGolden House of Nero, for instance, and the Forum, the Colosseum, St. Peter's and the Vatican; just a passing glance at a few things, as itwere. " Merrihew as he spoke kept a sober countenance. 

It deceived Hillard, who eyed him with unfeigned wonder, marveling thatany rational mind should even think of such a thing, much less proposeit. 

"Why not run up to Venice and back?" he inquired sarcastically. 

"Is it as far as that?" innocently. "Well, we'll make it just St. Peter's and the Vatican. "

"Impossible! In the hour we have left we can see nothing, positivelynothing. And even now we had better start for the station to get acompartment before the rush. St. Peter's and the Vatican! You talk likethe Englishman who wanted to run over to San Francisco and back toPhiladelphia in the morning. "

A grin now spread over Merrihew's face. Hillard scratched his chinreflectively. 

"I'll pay for the luncheon myself, " he said. 

"You had better. It was great sport to watch your face. I'll be in ahappy frame of mind all day now. "

After luncheon Merrihew secretly bought two boxes of cigars to carryalong. They were good cigars and cost him fifteen dollars. He coveredthem with some newspapers, and at the station succeeded by somelegerdemain in slipping them into one of his cases. Hillard would havelectured him on his extravagance, and this was a good way to avoid it. But some hours later he was going to be very sorry that he had not madea confidant of his guide. Merrihew had never heard of the town ofVentimiglia, which straddles the frontiers of France and Italy. As theywere boarding the train they noticed two gentlemen getting into theforward compartment of the carriage. 

"Humph! Our friend with the scar, " said Hillard. "We do not seem able toshake him. "

"I'd like to shake him. He goes against the grain, somehow. " Merrihewswung into the compartment. "I wonder why the Sandfords dropped him?"

"For some good reason. They are a liberal pair, and if our friendforward offended them, it must have been something deliberate andoutside the pale of forgiveness. But I should like to know where oldGiovanni is. I miss him. "

"Poor devil!" said Merrihew with careless sympathy. It is easy to besympathetic with persons whose troubles are remote from our own. 

The train started, and again they had the compartment. 

"Monte Carlo! Gold, gold, little round pieces of gold!" Merrihew rubbedhis hands like the miser in _The Chimes of Normandy_. 

"Hard to get and heavy to hold!" quoted Hillard. "I suppose that youhave a system already worked out. "

"Of course. I shall win if I stick to it. "

"Or if the money lasts. Bury your system, my boy. It will do you nogood. Trust to luck only. Monte Carlo is the graveyard of systems. "

"But maybe my system is the one. You can't tell till I have tried it. "

Merrihew lighted a cigar, and Hillard smiled secretly. After some timethe conductor came in to examine the tickets. When the examination wasover he paused in front of Merrihew, who puffed complacently. 

"Signore, " the conductor said politely, "_e vietato fumare_. "

Merrihew replied with an uncomprehending stare. 

"_Non fumer!_" said the conductor, with his hand at the side of hismouth, as one does to a person who is suddenly discovered to be hard ofhearing. 

Merrihew smiled weakly and signified that he did not understand. 

"_Nicht rauchen!_" cried the official in desperation. 

Merrihew extended his hands hopelessly. He had nothing belonging to theconductor. Hillard had the tickets. 

"_Niet rooken! Niet rooken!_"

"I say, Jack, what the deuce does he want, anyhow?"

"_Cigare, cigare!_" The conductor gesticulated toward the window. 

"Oh!" Merrihew took the cigar from his teeth and went through thepantomime of tossing it out of the window. 

"_Si, si!_" assented the conductor, delighted that he was finallyunderstood. 

"You might have given me the tip, " Merrihew grumbled across to Hillard. He viewed the halfburnt perfecto ruefully and filliped it through thewindow. "How should I know smoking was prohibited?"

"You had your joke; this is mine. Besides, I remained silent to theadvantage of your future education. The conductor has spoken to you infour languages--Italian, French, German and Dutch. " Hillard then spoketo the conductor. "May not my friend smoke so long as ladies do notenter?"

"Certainly, since it does not annoy you. " Then the conductor bowed anddisappeared into the next compartment. 

Merrihew inscribed on the back of an envelope, for future reference, thefour phrases, and in ten minutes had, with the assistance of hispreceptor, mastered their pronunciations. 

"I wish I had been born a hotel concierge, " he said mournfully. "Theyspeak all languages, and the Lord knows where they find the time tolearn them. "

"The Englishman, the Parisian and the American are the poorestlinguists, " said Hillard. "They are altogether too well satisfied withthemselves and their environments to bother learning any language buttheir own, and most Americans do not take the trouble to do that. "

"Hear, hear!"

"It is because I am a good patriot that I complain, " said Hillard. "Ilove my country, big, healthy and strong as it is; but I wish my peoplewould brush up their learning, so that these foreigners would have lessright to make sport of us. "

"There's some truth in what you say. But we are young, and going aheadall the time. "

Soon the train began to lift into the mountains, the beautifulApennines, and Merrihew counted so many tunnels he concluded that thiswas where the inventor of the cinematograph got his idea. Just as somemagnificent valley began to unfold, with a roar the train dashed into adank, sooty tunnel. One could neither read nor enjoy the scenery;nothing to do but sit tight and wait, let the window down when theypassed a tunnel, lift it when they entered one. By the time they arrivedin Genoa, late at night, both compared favorably with the coalers in theharbor of Naples. 

The English and American tourists have done much toward making Italy asoap-and-water tolerating country (loving would be misapplied). But inItaly the State owns the railroads. There is water (of a kind), butnever soap or towels. 

Early the next morning the adventurers set out for Monte Carlo, takingonly their hand-luggage. More tunnels. A compartment filled with womenand children. And hot besides. But the incomparable beauty of theRiviera was a compensation. Ventimiglia, or Vintimille, has a sinistersound in the ears of the traveler, if perchance he be a man fond of histobacco. A turbulent stream cuts the town in two. On the east sidestands a gloomy barn of a station; on the other side one of the mostpicturesque walled towns in Europe, and of Roman antiquity. The traindrew in. A dozen steps more, and one was virtually in France. But thereis generally a slight hitch before one takes the aforesaid steps: theFrench customs. A _facchino_ popped his head into the window. 

"Eight minutes for examination of luggage!" he cried. 

Re held out his arms, and Hillard piled the luggage upon him. 

"Come, Dan; lively, if we want good seats when we come out. We changetrains. "

The two men followed the porter to the ticket entrance, surrenderedtheir coupons, and passed into the customs. The porter had to go roundanother way. After a short skirmish they located their belongings, whichunfortunately were far down toward the end of the barrier. They wouldhave to be patient. Hillard held in his hands his return coupons toGenoa. Sometimes this helps at the frontier; and if one has a steamerticket, better still. Inspectors then understand that one is to be but atransient guest. 

Among the inspectors at Ventimiglia is a small, wizened Frenchman, witha face as cold and impassive as the sand-blown Sphinx. He possessesamong other accomplishments a nose, peculiar less for its shape than forits smell. He can "smell out" tobacco as a witch doctor in Zululandsmells out a "devil. " Fate directed this individual toward theAmericans. Hillard knew him of old; and he never forgets a face, thiswizened little man. 

"Monsieur has nothing to declare?" he asked. 

Hillard made a negative sign and opened his cases. With scarce a glanceat their contents, and waving aside the coupons, the inspector appliedthe chalk and turned to Merrihew. 

"Monsieur has nothing to declare?" he repeated. 

Merrihew shook his head airily. "_Niente, niente!_" he said in his bestItalian. He did not understand what the inspector said; he merely hadsuspicions. 

"Look!" suddenly exclaimed Hillard. 

Passing out of the door which led to liberty and to France, theirluggage guaranteed by cabalistic chalk marks, were two women. One ofthem was veiled, the other was not. 

"Kitty Killigrew, as I live!" shouted Merrihew, making a dash for thedoor. 

But the inspector blocked the way, beckoned to a gendarme, who cameover, and calmly pointed to Merrihew's unopened cases. 

"Open!" said the inspector, all his listlessness gone. He had seenpeople in a hurry before. 

"But--" Merrihew struggled to pass. 

"For Heaven's sake!" cried Hillard, "be patient and open the cases atonce. "

Merrihew handled his keys clumsily. The first key on the ring shouldhave been the last, and the last first. It is ever thus when one is in ahurry. Finally he threw back the lids, feeling that in another moment hemust have spouted Italian or French out of pure magic, simply to tellthis fool inspector what he thought of him. 

"Oho! Monsieur-in-a-hurry!" mocked the inspector. "Nothing, nothing!" Hetook out the two boxes of cigars. 

"Why the devil didn't you tell me you had them?" Hillard demandedwrathfully. To find the women by this stroke of luck, and then to losethem again for two boxes of cigars! It was maddening!

As a matter of fact, Merrihew had forgotten all about them, so far asintentional wrong-doing was concerned. 

The inspector went through Merrihew's possessions with premeditatedleisure. Everything had to come out. He even opened the shaving sets, the collar box, the pin cases, and the tie bag. Other persons pushed bytoward the train, uttering their relief aloud. Still the inspectordoddered on. "Will you hasten?" asked Hillard. "We do not wish to missthis train. "

"Others follow, " said the inspector laconically. 

Hillard produced a five-franc piece. The inspector laughed without noiseand shook his head. This one inspector is impervious to money or smoothspeeches. He is the law personified, inexorable. 

"Tell him to keep the cigars, but let us go!" Merrihew begged. 

No, that would not do. Monsieur had not declared the cigars. If hepersisted, the government would confiscate the cigars, but in place ofduty there would be a large fine. Monsieur had better be patient and paythe duty only, retaining his valuable cigars. It was very liberal on his(the inspector's) part. 

Hillard strained his eyes, but saw neither Kitty nor the veiled ladyagain. Doubtless they were already on the train. Had Merrihew been anold traveler he would have left him to get to Monte Carlo the best wayhe could; but Merrihew was as helpless as a child, and he hadn't theheart to desert him, though he deserved to be deserted. 

Ding-ding! went the bell. Toot-toot! went the horn. Whee-whee! went thewhistle. The train for Monte Carlo was drawing out, and they were beingleft behind. Hillard swore and Merrihew went white with impotent anger. If only he could hit something! The inspector smiled and went on withhis deadly work. When he was certain that they could not possibly catchthe train, he chalked the cases, handed the cigars to their owner, andpointed to a sign the other side of the barricade. 

"What shall I do now, Jack?" Merrihew asked. 

"I refuse to help you. Find out yourself. "

So Merrihew, hopeless and subdued, went into the room designated, sawthe cigars taken out and weighed, took the bill and presented it with ahundred-lire note at the little window in the off-room. The officialthere pushed the money back indifferently. 

"_Française, Monsieur, française!_"

Merrihew blinked at him. What _was_ the matter now? Was the note bad?

"_Change, cambio!_" said the official testily. Would tourists neverlearn anything?

Merrihew got it through his head somehow where the difficulty lay. Hewent out again, remembering the sign _Cambio_ hanging in front of thenews-stand. He lost half a dollar in the exchange, but for the timebeing his troubles were over. 

Meanwhile Hillard had made inquiries at the door. No, the official theretold him, he had not noticed the lady in the veil. So many passed; itwas impossible to recollect. 

And Merrihew found him sitting disconsolately on the barricade. 

"I hope you are perfectly satisfied, " said Hillard, with an amiabilitywhich wouldn't have passed muster anywhere. 

"Oh, I'm satisfied, " answered Merrihew. He stuffed his pockets withcigars, slammed the boxes into the case, and locked them up. Hecollected his belongings and repacked the other case, keeping up arumbling monotone as he did so. "Oh, yes; I am damned satisfied. "

"I warned you about tobacco. "

"I know it. "

"You should have told me. "

"I know that, too; but I didn't want you to lecture me. "

"A lecture would have been better than waiting here in this barn forthree hours. "

"Three hours?" despondently. 

"Oh, there's a restaurant, but it's not much better than this. It's bad;flies and greasy plates. "

Conversation died. For the first time in the long run of theirfriendship there was a coolness between them. However, their nativesense of humor was too strong for this coolness to last. Merrihew wasfirst to break the silence. 

"Jack, I _am_ an ass!" penitently. 

"I admit it, " said Hillard, smiling. 

"Let's hunt up the restaurant; I am hungry and thirsty. "

And by the time they had found the Ristorante Tornaghi--miserable anduninviting--they were laughing. 

"Only, I wish I knew where they were going, " was Hillard's regret. 

"They?" said Merrihew. 

"Yes. The woman with Kitty is the woman I'm going to find if I stay inEurope ten years. And when I find her, I'm going to marry her. "

"Sounds good, " said Merrihew, pouring himself a third glass of veryindifferent Beaune. 

"And they may be going anywhere but to Monte Carlo--Paris, Cherbourg, Calais. In my opinion, Monte Carlo is the last place two such women arelikely to go to alone. "

"Have a cigar, " Merrihew urged drolly. "I paid fifteen cents apiece forthem in Rome. They are now four for a dollar. And I suppose that I'llhave to smoke them all up in Monte Carlo, or the Italian end of thisruin will sink the harpoon into me for fifty more francs. I'd like toget that blockhead over the line. I'd customs him. "

"Don't blame him. He is to be admired. He is one of the rarities ofEurope--an honest official. "

So they sat in the dingy restaurant, smoking and laughing and grumblingtill the next train was announced. At four that afternoon they arrivedwithout further mishap at the most interesting station of its size inEurope--Monte Carlo. And Merrihew saw gold whichever way he looked: inthe sunshine on the sea, in the glistening rails, in the reflectingwindows of the many-terraced hotels, in the orange trees; gold, gold, beautiful gold napoleons. 

And then, into the omnibus adjoining, came the man with the scar. 

CHAPTER XIII

KITTY ASKS QUESTIONS

The Riviera, from San Remo on the Italian side to Cannes on the French, possesses a singular beauty. Cities and villages nestle in bays or crownfrowning promontories; and sheltered from northern winds by mountainsrugged and lofty, the vegetation is tropical and rich. Thousands ofsplendid villas (architectural madnesses) string out along therock-bound coast; and princes and grand dukes and kings live in some ofthese. Often a guide will point out some little palace and dramaticallywhisper that this will be the villa of a famous ballerina, or Spanishdancer, or opera singer, or some duchess whose husband never had anyduchy. And seldom these villas are more than a stone's throw from thevillas of the princes and grand dukes and kings. Nobility and royaltyare fond of jovial company. Aladdin's lamp is not necessary here, whereone may build a villa by the aid of one's toes!

Nature--earthly nature--has nothing to do with the morality of humanity, if it can not uplift. Yet humanity can alter nature, beautify it after aconventional manner, or demolish it, still after a conventional manner. On the Riviera humanity has nature pretty well under hand. 

Villefranche stands above Nice, between that white city and Monte Carlo. It is quiet and lovely. For this reason the great army of tourists passit by; there is no casino, no band, no streets full of tantalizingshops. On the very western limit of Villefranche, on the winding whiteroad which rises out of Nice, a road so frequently passed over byautomobiles that a haze of dust always hangs over it, is a modest littlevilla, so modest that a ballerina would scorn it and a duchess ignoreit. It is, in truth, a _pensione_, where only those who come wellrecommended are accepted as guests. It is on the left of the road as youride east, and its verandas and window balconies look straight out tosea, the eternally blue Mediterranean. A fine grove of shade treesprotects it from the full glare of the sun. 

[Illustration: In the balcony La Signorina reposed in a steamer chair]

In the balcony La Signorina reposed in a steamer chair, gazing seaward. The awning cast a warm glow as of gold upon her face and hair, atransparent shadow. She was at this moment the most precious thing uponwhich the eye may look--a wholly beautiful woman. Kitty Killigrew, standing in the casement window, stared at her silently, not withoutsome envy, not without some awe. What was going on behind those dreamyeyes? Only once did the woman in the chair move, but this movement wastense with passion: she clenched her hands and struck them roughly onthe arms of the chair. Immediately she relaxed, as if realizing howfutile such emotion was. Kitty stirred and came out. She sat in theneighboring chair. 

"Hilda?" said Kitty. 

"Yes, Kitty. "

"Who and what are you?" Kitty asked bravely. 

La Signorina's eyes wandered till they met Kitty's. There was neitheranger nor surprise in the glance, only deliberation. 

"And what good would it do you to know? Would it change our positionsany? Would it bring money from home any sooner? You already know, without my telling you, that I am unhappy. The adventuress always is. "

"Adventuress?" Kitty laughed scornfully. "The proprietor pretends hedoes not know you, but I am certain he does. He forgets himselfsometimes in the way he bows to you. He has even called you _altezza_, which you tell me is Italian for highness. "

"He is in hope of a liberal tip. "

"The proprietor? One does not tip him. "

"That is true. I can not understand his motive, then. "

"If he also applied the title to me, it would be different. He rarelynotices me. Won't you tell me what the secret is?"

"How beautiful that white sail looks!"

"You know all about me, " went on Kitty stubbornly. 

"Because you told me. I never asked you a single question. "

"And you have told me nothing. "

"Why should I? Come, Kitty, be reasonable. Tell me what you think ofthat sail. Is it not beautiful in the sunset?"

"Is it--love?"

"Love?" La Signorina shrugged. "Poor Kitty, you are trying in vain tomake a romance out of my life. What should I know of love? It is a myth, a fable, only to be found in story-books. You should not read so much. "

"It is not curiosity, " declared Kitty. "It is because I love you, andbecause it makes me sad when I hear you laugh, when I see you beat yourhands against the chair as you did just now. " There was a tremble inKitty's voice that suggested the nearness of tears. 

La Signorina turned again, in a passion which was as fierce as it wassudden. 

"There _is_ a man, " she whispered rather than spoke, the pupils in hereyes dilating so that the blue irises nearly disappeared. "But I loathehim, I hate him, I abhor him! And were it not wicked to kill, he wouldhave been dead long ago. Enough! If you ever ask another question, Iwill leave you. I like you, but I insist that my secrets shall be myown, since they concern you in no manner. "

"I am sorry, " said Kitty with contrition. "But I suspected there was aman. I understand. He was false to you and broke your heart, "romantically. 

"No, Kitty; only my pride. "

"It is a strange world, " mused Kitty. 

"It would be otherwise were it not that the heart and the mind arealways at war. But let us turn to our affairs. I received a letterto-day. "

"From home?" eagerly. 

"I have no home, Kitty. The letter is from a friend in Naples. Mr. Hillard and Mr. Merrihew, friends of yours, are in Italy. "

Kitty could scarce believe her ears. "Where are they? Where are theystopping?"

"That I do not know. But listen. They have started out to find us. WhenI tell you that Mr. Hillard is the gentleman I dined with that nightbefore we sailed, you will understand my reasons for wishing to avoidhim. From this time on we must never appear on the streets without ourveils. If by chance we meet them, we must give no sign. It will be onlyfor a little while. Your letter will come soon, and you may renew youracquaintance with these two gentlemen when you return home. It may behard for you; but if you wish to stay with me, my will must be a lawunto you. "

"Not to speak to them if we meet them?" urged Kitty in dismay. 

"No. "

"But that is cruel of you. They are both gentlemen, " said Kitty, withfierce pride. 

"I do not know Mr. Merrihew, but I can say that Mr. Hillard is agentleman. I have proved that. As for being cruel, I am not; onlyselfish. "

"Are you not a queen who has run away from a kingdom?" asked Kittybitterly. "One reads about them every day in the papers. "

"My dear, you are free to choose one of two paths. Sometimes I need you, Kitty; and the sight of you and the knowledge of your nearness helps me. I shall not urge you one way or the other, but you must make your finalchoice at once. "

Several minutes passed. Kitty looked out to sea, and La Signorina closedher eyes. In her heart Kitty knew that she could no more leave thiswoman than she could fly. She was held by curiosity, by sentiment, bythe romantic mystery. 

"I have chosen, " she said at length. "I shall stay with you. "

"Thanks, Kitty. And now, the affairs of the company. We have playedthree days and have lost steadily. To-night will be the last chance. Winor lose, to-morrow we shall return to Venice. I do not like the idea ofgoing to Monte Carlo at night; it is not exactly safe. But since beggarsmustn't be choosers, we must go. Again I warn you to speak to no onewhile I am playing; and under no circumstance raise your veil. They havebegun to notice us, but it will end to-night. I was mad to think that Icould win. And by the way, Kitty, we shall not go back to the CampoFormosa. "

Kitty accepted this news brightly. If there was one place she hated, itwas the Campo. She had never been so lonely in all her days as in thatevil-smelling tenement in the Campo Santa Maria Formosa. 

"Now run and dress, " advised La Signorina. "Let me dream a little more, while the sun sets. I can dream a pleasant dream sometimes. "

And indeed the dream was not unpleasant, for her thoughts went back tothat night in New York. Did he really think of her, then? Was itpossible for a man to forget so bizarre an episode? Rather would it notleave a lasting impression? She liked him. He had a clean, kindly faceand handsome eyes. How she had played with him! How she had tempted him!And yet, through it all, a gentleman, a witty, interesting, amiablegentleman, who never approached the innuendo, or uttered adouble-meaning. On her part she had taken great risks; but the fun hadbeen merry and harmless. 

She recalled his liberal-minded patriotism and his sensible comparisons. Surely he was right: the race of gentlemen had not yet died out in farAmerica. With what mystery had he invested her? With what charms had heendued her? She smiled gently. It was pleasant to be made a heroine evenfor the small space of two hours. He was an idle young man, after afashion; that was because he had not been waked up. But under his jestand under his laughter she was sure that there was courage and purposeand high emprise. Take care! she thought. Take care! Might not thislittle dream carry her too far out to sea?. . . To have met a man likethis one in time! How gracefully, how boyishly, he had kissed her hand!More than this, there had been an artless admiration in his upturnedeyes, an expression which a gentleman of the Old World would havelacked. Why had she sent him that mask? Had it been a challenge, anindirect challenge, daring him to follow and seek her? She really couldnot answer. It had been one of those half-conscious whims which may beassigned to no positive cause. Besides, no sensible man would haveaccepted such a challenge. She knew men tolerably well: after thirtythey cease to follow visions; they seek tangible things. . . . No, theymust never meet again. It would not be wise. Her heart, lonely, disappointed, galled as it were by disillusion, might not withstand muchstorming. And she had no wish to add this irretrievable folly to theoriginal blunder. Too late, too late! Decidedly they must not meetagain. She was afraid. 

The red rim of the sun sank quickly now, and the sea turned cold anddeeply blue, and the orange-tinted sails grew drab and lonely. And withthe sun the brightness of her dream went out. Would she never cast outthe life which was false, though colorful and fantastic? Would she neveraccept real life, dull and sober? Romance? She was always seeking it, knowing right well that it was never to be found. Romance! Had it notled her into this very pit from which only death could release her? Thisimpossible vein was surely the legacy of some far ancestor, some knightof the windmills, not of her father and mother, both so practical, sowise, so ambitious. Ah, she thought in her heart, had they but lived tosee the folly of what they believed to be wisdom!

No, they must go their separate ways till the end. When she was old shewould re-read his letters. With a sigh she rose and went into the room. Kitty was busy with the finishing touches of her toilet. Kitty was notvain; she was only pretty. The older woman kissed her fondly. 

"Pretty Kitty Killigrew!" she said. "It is positively lyrical. "

"And do you realize that you are the most beautiful woman in the world?"

"Little flatterer!"

"And if I were a man--" Kitty paused. 

"Well, and if you were a man?"

"I'd fall in love with you and marry you. " La Signorina looked into themirror. 

CHAPTER XIV

GREY VEILS

The fascination of Monte Carlo is not to be described; it must be seen. Vice shall be attractive, says the Mother of Satan. At Monte Carlo it ismore than attractive; it is compelling. A subtle hypnotism prevails. Onescarce realizes that this lovely spot is at the same time the basest. What passions have stormed this cliff! What rage and despair have beatentheir hands against these bastions of pleasure! How few who plunge intothis maelstrom of chance ever rise again! The lure of gold, there isnothing stronger save death. Fool and rogue, saint and sinner, here theymeet and mingle and change. To those who give Monte Carlo but a triflingglance, toss a coin or two on the tables, and leave by the morrow'strain, it has no real significance; it is simply one of the sights ofEurope. 

To this latter class belonged the two young men. They had no fortunes toretrieve, no dishonesty to hide, no restitutions to make, no dancers toclothe and house. It was but a mild flirtation. They saw the silken gownoutside rather than the rags beneath; they saw the smile rather than thetortured mind behind it. 

They dined sumptuously at the café de Paris. They wandered about thesplendid terraces on the sea-front, smoking. They had grown accustomedto the many beautiful women, always alone, always with roving eyes. Frequently Merrihew longed to chat with this one or that; and sometimeshe rebelled against his inability to speak the maddening tongue. To-night, though the dinner had been excellent and the chambertin allthat could be desired, the two were inclined to be moody. So far fortunehad not smiled, she had frowned persistently. They found a vacant benchand sat down. 

"Ho-hum!" said Merrihew, dangling his monocle to which he had attached astring. 

"Heigh-ho!" replied Hillard. 

"Curse those cigars!"

"With all my heart!"

They had searched Nice, and Monaco, and Mentone, but the women theysought were not to be found. They decided, therefore, that the women hadgone on to Paris, and that there was now no hope of seeing them thisside of the Atlantic. They had not entered the Casino during the day;they had been too busy quizzing hotel porters and concierges along theRiviera. 

"My system needs a tonic, " said Merrihew. 

"We'll hold the funeral after to-night's play. Of all the damfool games, it's roulette. "

"And I can prove it, " Merrihew replied. "I have just fifty dollarsleft. " He took out the gold and toyed with it. "Can't you hear it?" heasked. 

"Hear what?"

"The swan-song of these tender napoleons!"

Merrihew had played the numbers, the dozens, the columns, the colors, odd and even. Sometimes he would win a little, but a moment later therelentless rake would drag it back to the bank. His chance to play thegood Samaritan to the derelicts of the American Comic Opera Company wasfast approaching the dim horizon of lost opportunities. Presently hescrewed the monocle into his eye and squinted at the sea, the palaces onthe promontory, the yachts in the harbor, all tranquil in shadowymoonlight. 

"Nature has done this very prettily. Quite clever with her colors, don'tyou know, " he drawled, plucking the down on his upper lip, for he wastrying to raise a mustache, convinced that two waxed points of hair ateach corner of his mouth would impress the hotel waiters and other_facchini_--baseborn. 

"Don't be a jackass!" Hillard was out of sorts. 

"You agreed with me that I was one. Why not let me make a finishedproduct?" good-humoredly. 

"You will have your joke. "

"Yes, even at the expense of being blind in one eye; for I can't seethrough this glass; positive stove-lid. Every time I focus you, you growas big as a house. No, I'd never be happy as a lord. Well, let us haveour last fling. You might as well let me have my letter of credit now. "

"You will not set eyes upon it till we return to Genoa. That's final. Iknow you, my boy, and I know Monte Carlo. Even with your fifty, a watchand a ring, I'm afraid to trust you out of sight. "

"I can see that you will never forgive nor forget--those cigars. Comeon. We'll take a look at our Italian friend. He's a bad loser. I haveseen him lose his temper, too. It's my opinion that he's a desperateman. "

"They usually are when they come to Monte Carlo. "

So they walked round to the entrance to the gaming halls, where thelights, the gowns, the jewels, the sparkling eyes, the natural beautyand the beauty of enamel, the vague perfumes, the low murmur of voices, the soft rustle of silks, the music of ringing gold, all combine toproduce a picture and ensemble as beautiful as a mirage and as false. Nothing is real in Monte Carlo but the little pieces of gold and thepassion to win them. The two renewed their tickets of admission andpassed on into the famous atrium, stared a while at the news bulletin, whereon all the important events of the day are briefly set forth, andgazed musingly at the bats darting across the ceiling, real bats, asinister omen such as one sees in imaginative paintings of the Door ofHades. At nine they joined the never-ending procession which passes inand out of the swinging doors day after day, year after year. 

The faces one sees in the Hall of Roulette! Here and there one whichwill haunt the onlooker through the rest of his days. Packed about thelong tables were young faces flushed with hope or grey with despair;middle-aged faces which expressed excitement or indifference; old, oldfaces, scarred and lined and seamed, where avarice, selfishness, cruelty, dishonesty crossed and recrossed till human semblance wasliterally blotted out. Light-o'-loves, gay and careless; hideous oldcrones, who watched the unwary and stole the unwary's bets; old women inblack, who figured and figured imaginary winnings and never riskedanything but their nerves. And there were beautiful women, beautifullygowned, beautifully gemmed, some of them good, some of them indifferent, and some of them bad. Invariably Hillard found himself speculating onthe history of this woman or that; the more gems, the more history. Herethe half-world of Europe finds its kingdom and rules it madly. Thefortunes these women have poured into this whirligig of chance willnever be computed. And there was the gentlemanly blackleg, theticket-of-leave man, and outcasts and thieves; but all of them were welldressed, and, for the time being, well behaved. 

Occasionally Merrihew caught some daring beauty's eye, and usually therefollowed a conversation, familiar to all ages and to all peoples, confined to the eyebrow, the eyelid, and the merry little wrinkles inthe corner. When any spoke to him, however, and many did, for his facewas fresh and pleasing, he would reply in English that he spoke noFrench, regretfully. 

"There's the chap with the scar. He is a handsome beggar, " Hillardadmitted. "I wonder what sort of blackleg he is? He's no ordinary one, I'm certain. I begin to recognize the face of the man with him. He's adistinguished diplomat, and he would not associate with a man who wasthoroughly bad, according to law, leaving out the moral side of it. Letus watch them. "

The Italian played like an old hand; a number once in a while, butmaking it a point to stake on the colors. Red began to repeat itself. Hedoubled and doubled. On the sixth consecutive turn he played the maximumof twelve thousand francs, and won. The diplomat touched him on the armsignificantly, but the player shook his head. Ten minutes later he hadwon forty thousand francs. Again he refused to leave his chair. 

"If he stays now, " said Hillard, "he will lose it all. His friend isright. "

"Forty thousand francs, eight thousand dollars!" murmured Merrihewsadly. Why couldn't he have luck like this?

Hillard was a true prophet. There came a change in the smile of fortune. The game jumped from color to color, seldom repeating, with zero makingitself conspicuous. The man with the scar played on, but he began tolose, small sums at first, then larger, till finally he was down to hisoriginal stake. The scar grew livid. He waited five turns of the wheel, then placed his stake on the second dozen. He lost. He rose from hischair, scowling. His eye chanced to meet Hillard's, and their glancesheld for a moment. 

"Fool!" said Merrihew in an undertone, as the man strolled leisurelypast them. "Eight thousand, and not content to quit!"

"My boy, a man who needs a hundred thousand and wins but eight is seldomcontent. " Hillard followed the Italian with his eyes as he approachedone of the lounges. There the loser was joined by his friend, and thetwo of them fell to gesticulating wildly, after the manner of theirrace. Hillard understood this pantomime; the diplomat had been ashare-holder. "Start your play, Dan. I'll find plenty of amusement atthe other tables. My watching your game hasn't brought you any luck upto the present. Go in and give 'em a beating. "

Merrihew hastened over to the north table. This was, according toreport, the table which had no suicide's chair; and Merrihew had hisprivate superstitions like the rest of us. At eleven o'clock the banksclosed, so he had but two hours in which to win a fortune. It was notpossible for him to lose one; in this the gods were with him. 

Meanwhile the trolleys from Nice and Mentone had poured into Monte Carlotheir usual burdens of pleasure seekers. On one of the cars from Nicethere had arrived two women, both veiled and simply gowned. Theconductor had seen them before, but never at night. They seldomaddressed each other, and never spoke to any one else. He picked them upat Villefranche. Doubtless they were some sober married women out for alark. Upon leaving the car they did not at once go into the Casino, butdirected their steps toward the terraces, for the band was playing. Theysat in the shadow of the statue of Massenet, and near-by the rasp of acricket broke in upon the music. When the music stopped they linked armsand sauntered up and down the wide sweep of stone, mutually interestedin the crowds, the color, and the lights. Once, as they passed behind abench, the better to view the palaces of the prince, they heard thevoices of two men. 

"Ho-hum!"

"Heigh-ho!"

As they went on, the women heard something about cigars. The men wereAmericans, evidently. It was only an inconsequent incident, and a momentlater both had forgotten it. By and by they proceeded to the Casino. Rarely women wear veils at Monte Carlo. On the contrary, they go there(most of them) to be seen, admired and envied. Thus, these two werefully aware of the interest they excited. At frequent intervalsroyalty--the feminine side of the family--steals into Monte Carlo, oftenunattended. When one's yacht is in the harbor below, it does not entailmuch danger. There is a superstition regarding veils; but no attendantrequested the women to remove them. They dared not, for fear ofaffronting royalty. It was a delicate situation, so far as theattendants were concerned. 

"At which table shall I make the stake, Kitty?"

"The center; there is always a crush there, and we shall not benoticed. "

"I do not agree with you there. However, it shall be the center table. What would you do, Kitty, if I should break the bank?"

"Die of excitement!" truthfully. 

"You will live through this event, then. " With a light careless laugh, La Signorina pressed her way to the table. 

The play here was in full swing, and in some cases very high. She openedher purse and took out a handful of gold. These napoleons were all thatremained of the capital intrusted her. She hesitated for some time, thenplaced a coin on the number twenty-five, her age. The ivory ball spunround and round, till it lost some of its force and slanted, struck oneof the little silver obstacles, and bounded into one of thecompartments. It was the number twenty-five: thirty-five napoleons forone, a hundred and forty dollars! Kitty uttered an ejaculation ofdelight. Many looked enviously at the winner as the neat little stack ofgold was pushed toward her. She took the gold and placed it on black. Again she won. Then fortune packed up and went elsewhere. She loststeadily, winning but one bet in every ten. She gave no sign, however, that her forces were in full retreat from the enemy. She played on, andthe hand which placed the bets was steady. She was a thoroughbred. Andwhen the gold was all gone, she opened her empty hands expressively andshrugged. She was beaten. Behind the chair of the banker, opposite, stood the Italian. The scowl still marred his forehead. When the womanin the veil spread out her hands, he started. There was somethingfamiliar to his mind in that gesture. And then the woman saw him. Forthe briefest moment her form stiffened and the shape of her chin wasmolded in the veil. Slight as this sign was, the Italian observed it. But he was puzzled. 

"Kitty, " La Signorina whispered, "let us go out to the atrium. I amtired. "

They left the hall leisurely and found a vacant settle in the atrium. 

"I have a horror of bats, " said La Signorina. 

"How cold your hands are!" exclaimed Kitty. "Never mind about the money. They will understand. "

"Kitty, I am a fool, a fool! I have unwittingly put my head in thelion's mouth. If I had not reached this seat in time, I should havefallen. I would willingly give all my rings if, at this moment, I couldrun across the hall and out into the open!"

"Merciful Heaven! Why, what is the matter? What has happened?" Kitty wasall in a flutter. 

"I can not explain to you. "

"Was it some one you saw in there?"

"Silence; and sit perfectly still!"

The swinging doors opened and closed. A man in evening dress came outinto the atrium, lighting a cigarette. At the sight of him both womenwere startled. Their emotions, however, were varied and unlike. 

"It is Mr. Hillard, Mr. Merrihew's friend!" Kitty would have risen, butthe other's strong hand restrained her. 

"Kitty, remember your promise. "

"Is _he_ the man?"

"No, no! Only, I have said that we must not meet him. It might do himincalculable harm. Harm!" La Signorina repeated; "do you understand?"

"But--"

"Silence, I command you!"

The tone had the power to subdue Kitty. The indignant protest died onher lips. She sat perfectly still, but she would have liked to cry. Tolet Mr. Hillard pass by in this manner, without a sign of friendlinessor recognition! It was intolerable. And he could tell where Merrihew was(as indeed he could!) and what he was doing. She choked and crushed theends of her veil. 

Hillard blew outward a few pale rings of smoke and circled the atriumwith an indolent glance which stopped as it rested upon the two veiledwomen sitting alone. Besides being bored and wanting amusement, acertain curiosity impelled him toward them, and he sank on the settlebeside them, with perhaps half a dozen spans of the hand between. Hesmoked till the cigarette scorched his fingers, then he dropped it, extinguishing the coal with the toe of his pump. He observed the womenfrankly. Not a single wisp of hair escaped the veils, not a line of anyfeature could be traced, and yet the tint of flesh shone dimly behindthe silken bands of crape; and the eyes sparkled. He nodded. 

"A wonderful scene in there, " indicating the swinging doors. "Puck wasright. What fools these mortals be! Something for nothing will alwayslure us. "

The veils did not move so much as the breadth of a hair. 

"Fortune favors the brave, but rarely the foolish. "

There was no response, but the small shoe of the woman nearest began tobeat the floor ever so lightly. Hillard was chagrined. To be rebuffedthe very first time he spoke to a woman in the Casino!

"Perhaps madame does not understand?" he said in French. 

One of the women stirred restlessly; that was all. 

He repeated the question in Italian, at the same time feeling like apedant airing his accomplishments. 

Nothing. 

"I beg your pardon, " he said, getting upon his feet. "I see that you donot wish to talk. "

Thereupon he bowed, sought another seat, and lighted a fresh cigarette. But not for a moment did his eye leave these two mysterious women. Theirabsolute silence confused him. Usually a woman gives some sign ofdisapproval when addressed by a stranger. These two sat as if theyneither saw nor heard him. He shook the ash from his cigarette, and whenhe looked up again, the women were hurrying across the floor to thelobby. He would have given them no further thought had not the Italianwith the scar appeared upon the scene, eyed the retreating figuresdoubtfully, and then started after them. That he did not know themHillard was reasonably certain. He assumed that the Italian saw apossible flirtation. He rose quickly and followed. If these two womendesired to be left alone, he might be of assistance. 

The four departed from the Casino and crossed toward the Hotel de Paris, the women in the lead. As yet they had not observed that they were beingfollowed. The car stops at this turn. As the women came to a stand, oneof them saw the approaching men. Instantly she fled up the street, swiftas a hare. The other hesitated for a second, then pursued her companionfrantically. Whatever doubts the Italian might have entertained, thisunexpected flight dissipated them. He knew now; he knew, he knew! With asharp cry of exultation he broke into a run. So did Hillard. He was nolonger bored. This promised to be interesting. People turned and stared, but none sought to intercept any of the runners. In Monte Carlo thereare many strange scenes, and the knight-errant often finds that his bumpof caution has suddenly developed. In other words, it is none of hisaffair. To look was one thing, to follow, to precipitate one's head intothe unknown, was another. And there were no police about; they were onthe Casino terraces, or strolling through the gardens, or patrolling therailway station. 

Past the park the quartet ran, and took the first turn to the left for ablock or more. Then came a stretch of darkness, between one electriclamp and another. And then, as if whisked away by magic, the foremostwoman disappeared. The other halted, breathless and wondering. Shestarted again, but a moment too late. The Italian caught her roughly bythe arm and with a quick movement tore aside the veil. 

"Kitty Killigrew!" Hillard cried. 

He sprang forward, grasped the Italian by the shoulders and whirled himround in no gentle manner. The Italian struck out savagely andfearlessly, but Hillard seized his arm and held it firmly. There was ashort tableau. Each man could hear the breathing of the other, quick anddeep. The devil gleamed in the Italian's eyes, but there was a menaceHillard's equally strong. 

"You meddling figure of a dog!"

"Take care lest the dog bite, signore. "

"Release my arm and stand aside!"

"Presently. Now, that way is yours, " said Hillard, pointing in thedirection of the way they had come. 

"Are you certain?" The Italian regulated his breathing, forcing down thebeat of his heart. 

"So certain that if you do not obey me, I shall call the police and letyou explain to them. "

"I should like nothing better, " replied the Italian, with a coolnesswhich dumfounded Hillard. 

"Do you know these ladies?"

"Do you?" insolently. 

"My knowing them does not matter. But it is any gentleman's concern whena man gives pursuit to a lady who does not wish to meet him, even inMonte Carlo. "

"A lady? Grace of Mary, that is droll!"

Hillard released the imprisoned arm, consciously chilled by the tone. There was a patent raillery, a quizzical insolence, which convincedHillard that the Italian had not given chase out of an idle purpose. While this idea was forming in his mind, the Italian inspected his cuff, brushed his sleeve, and then recalled that he was bareheaded. He laughedshortly. 

"We shall meet again, " he said softly. 

"I hope not, " replied Hillard frankly, at the same time placing himselfso as to block any sudden attempt to take up the chase. "However, youmay find me at the Hotel de Londres. "

The Italian laughed again. "You understand the language well, "debatingly. 

"And the people, too. " Hillard had no desire to pass the time of daywith his opponent. 

"Well, I have said that we shall meet again, and it must be so. "

"And your hat, as well as mine, is still in the Casino. The night iscold. "

The Italian tugged impatiently at his mustache and permitted his glanceto wander over Hillard critically. No, a struggle, much as he longed forit, would not be wise. He swung round on his heel and walked rapidlydown the street, much to Hillard's relief. Presently the Italian tookthe corner, and Hillard turned to reassure Kitty. 

But Kitty had vanished!

CHAPTER XV

MANY NAPOLEONS

Having yawned luxuriously, Merrihew sighed with perfect content. Thepretty woman sitting opposite smiled at him tenderly, and he smiledback, abstractedly, as a man sometimes will when his mind tries togather in comprehensively a thought and a picture which are totallydifferent. Before him, in neat little lustrous stacks, stood seventhousand francs in gold, three hundred and fifty effigies of Napoleonthe Little. And this was the thought which divided the smile with thepicture. Seven thousand francs, fourteen hundred dollars, more than halfthe sum of his letter of credit! And all this prodigious fortune for alittle gold put here, and a little gold put there, wisely, scientifically; for he would have strenuously denied that it was due tobald, blind luck. If only the boys at the club could see him now! He wethis lips suggestively, but the lust for gold was stronger than the callof tobacco. Tobacco could wait; fortune might not. Still, he took out acigar, bit off the end, and put it back in his pocket. And where thedeuce had Hillard gone? Twenty minutes to eleven, and no sign of himsince the play began. 

He counted off ten coins and placed them on the second dozen. The ballrolled into number twenty-three. He leaned back again with a secondsigh, and the pretty woman smiled a second smile, and the wooden rakepushed the beautiful gold over to him. He was playing a system, one betin every three turns of the wheel, in stakes of forty and eightydollars. To be sure he lost now and then, but the next play he doubledand retrieved. Oh, the American Comic Opera Company should be well takencare of. He could play the good Samaritan after the manner of a prince, if, indeed, princes ever elected to play that role. Two more bets, andthen he would pocket his winnings and go. He laid forty francs on numbertwenty-six and four hundred on black, leaned upon his elbows and studiedthe pretty woman, who smiled. If she spoke English. . . . He scribbled thequestion on a scrap of paper and pushed it across the table, blushing alittle as he did so. She read it, or at least she tried to read it, andshook her head with the air of one deeply puzzled. He sighed again, reflecting that there might have been a pleasant adventure had he onlyunderstood French. Hang the legend of the Tower of Babel! it was alwaysconfronting him in this part of the world. 

Twenty-six, black and even!

Merrihew slid back his chair and rose. He swept up the gold by thehandful and poured it into his pockets, casually and unconcernedly, asif this was an every-day affair and of minor importance. But as a matterof fact, his heart was beating fast, and there was a wild desire in histhroat to yell with delight. Eighteen hundred dollars, nine thousandfrancs! A merry music they made in his pockets. Jingle, jingle, jingle!Not only the good Samaritan, but the accursed thousand, that banefulthousand, that Nemesis of every New Year, might now be overtaken andannihilated. O happy thought! His pockets sagged, he could walk butstiffly, and in weight he seemed to have gained a ton. And then he sawHillard coming across the hall. Instantly he forced the joy from hisface and eyes and dropped his chin in his collar. He became in thatmoment the picture of desolation. 

"Is it all over?" asked Hillard gravely. 

"All over!" monotonously. 

"Come over to the café, then. I've something important to tell you. "

"Found them?" with rousing interest. 

"I shall tell you only when we get out of this place. Come. "

Merrihew followed him into the cloak-room; and as they came out into thenight, Hillard put out a friendly hand. 

"I am sorry, boy; I wanted you to win something. Cheer up; we'll shakethe dust of this place in the morning. "

Merrihew took off his hat and tossed it into the air hilariously. As itcame down he tried to catch it on the toe of his pump, but active as hewas he missed, and it rolled along the pavement. He recovered itquickly. 

"Oh, for a vacant lot and a good old whooper-up! Feel!" he said, touching his side pockets. Hillard felt. "Feel again!" commandedMerrihew, touching his trousers pockets. Hillard, with increasingwonder, felt again. 

"What is it?" he asked. 

"What is it? It is four hundred and fifty napoleons!"

"What?" sharply, even doubtfully. 

"That's what! Eighteen hundred dollars, more than three hundred andsixty pounds, nearly a million centesimi, and Heaven only knows what itwould be in Portuguese. My system will have no funeral to-night. Prettyfair returns for two hours' work, by George! Now, come on. "

He caught Millard by the sleeve and fairly ran him over to the café. Here lie pushed him into a chair and ordered the finest vintage he couldfind on the card. Then he offered one of the fatal cigars and lightedone for himself. 

"Nearly two thousand!" murmured Hillard. "Well, of all the luck!"

"It does seem too good to be true. And what's more, I'm going to hang onto it. No more for me; I'm through. For the first time in my life I'vewon something, and I am going to keep it. . . . I say, what's the matterwith your cravat?"

Hillard looked down at the fluttering end and reknotted it carelessly. 

"I saw Kitty to-night, " he said. 

To Merrihew it seemed that all the clatter about him had died awaysuddenly. He lowered his cigar and breathed deeply. "Where is she?" Herose. "Sit down. I don't know where she is. I'll explain what hashappened. And this is it. "

Merrihew listened eagerly, twisting his cigar from one corner of hismouth to the other. Once he made a gesture; it was reproachful. 

"And why did you bother about him? Why didn't you hold on to Kitty?"

"I confess it was stupid of me. But the gentleman with the scar was anunknown quantity. Besides, why should Kitty, in an episode like this, run away from me, of all persons? That's what is troubling me. And why, when I spoke to them in the Casino, did they ignore me completely?"

"It's your confounded prima donna; she's at the bottom of all this, takemy word for it. Something's desperately wrong. Persons do not wear masksand hide in this manner just for a lark. And we have lost them again!Why didn't you knock him down?" hotly. 

"I wanted to, but it wasn't the psychological moment. He recoveredhimself too quickly. You can't knock a man down when he practicallysurrenders. "

"You're too particular. But what's the matter with Kitty? I don'tunderstand. To see you was to know that I was round somewhere. She ranaway from me as well as from you. What shall we do?"

"Start the hunt again, or give it up entirely. There are some villagesbetween here and Nice. It must be in that direction; they were about toboard the car for Nice. If you hadn't been gambling, if you had beensensible and stayed with me--"

"Come, now, that won't wash. You know very well that you urged me toplay. "

"You would have played without any urging. "

The wine came, but the joy of drinking it was gone; and they emptied thebottle perfunctorily. To Merrihew everything was out of tune now. Why, Kitty Killigrew was worth all the napoleons in or out of France. AndKitty had run away! What was the meaning of it?

"And who is this Italian, anyhow? And why did he run after your primadonna?"

"That is precisely what I wish to find out, " answered Hillard. "The ladywhom you call my prima donna knew him and he knew her, and she must havehad mighty good reasons for running. "

"I'm afraid that Kitty has fallen among a bad lot. I'll wager it is someanarchist business. They are always plotting the assassination of kingsover here, and this mysterious woman is just the sort to rope in aconfiding girl like Kitty. One thing, if I come across our friend withthe scar--"

"You will wisely cross to the opposite side of the street. To find outwhat this tangle is, it is not necessary to jump head first into it. "

"A bad lot. "

"That may be, but no anarchists, my boy. "

Hillard was a bit sore at heart. That phrase recurred and recurred: "Alady? Grace of Mary, that is droll!" As he turned it over it had abitter taste. The shadow of disillusion crept into his bright dream andclouded it. To build so beautiful a castle, and to see it tumble at aword! The Italian had spoken with a contempt which was based onsomething more tangible than suspicion. What was she to him, or, rather, what had she been? If she was innocent of any wrong, why all thismystery? Persecution? That did not necessitate masks and veils andsudden flights. Well, he was a man: even as he watched this cloud ofsmoke, he would watch the dream rise and vanish into the night. 

Merrihew solemnly spun his wine-glass, but made no effort to refill it. 

"I'm thinking hard, " he said, "but I can't make out Kitty. "

"No more can I. But if she ran away from me, she had a definite purpose, and some day we'll find out just what it was. I am more than halfinclined to give up the chase entirely. You will see Kitty in New Yorkagain, and the whys and wherefores will be illumined. But if I keep onthinking of this masquerading lady, I shall get into a mental troublewhich will not be at all agreeable. I would to Heaven that she had sungunder any window but mine. "

"All right. Kitty doesn't wish to meet us. So we'll light out for Venicein the morning. I'm not going to be made a fool of for the best womanalive. "

"There is still the Campo Formosa. If they return to Venice, anddoubtless they will, for I believe they came here to replenish theirpurses, we'll hunt up the Campo and make inquiries. It is not anarchism. Anarchists always need money, and they wouldn't let me slip throughtheir fingers, once having taken hold of my curiosity in this way. Youmay be sure it is something deeper than that. Anarchism wouldn'tinterest a sensible little woman like Kitty. "

"You never can tell what will interest a woman, " said Merrihew owlishly. 

"There's truth in that. But Kitty isn't romantic; she has her bump ofcaution. "

"I agree to that. She refused me. "

They both laughed quietly. 

"Well, if nothing happens in Venice, we'll go to Verona, buy a pair ofgood saddle-horses, and take the road to Florence. That will besomething worth while. And it will clear this romantic fog out of ourheads. "

"That's the most sensible thing you've said in a long time, " saidMerrihew, brightening considerably. "A leg up and a couple of hundredmiles of these great roads! You've hit it squarely, by George! And outof my winnings we can buy ripping hunters. The American Comic OperaCompany be hanged! But I'd give half of my winnings if I knew what wasat the bottom of it all. Seems as if fate were moving us round for apastime. We have probably passed and repassed the two women a dozentimes. "

"And but for those cigars--"

"Will you kindly forget that?"

"If you insist upon it. "

"Thanks. We came over to see Italy; let's see it. Now, I'm for turningin. A bit headachey; infernally hot in the roulette room. "

In truth, all the enthusiasm was gone from Merrihew's heart. Since Kittyevinced a desire to avoid him, the world grew charmless; and the fortuneof Midas, cast at his feet, would not have warmed him. On the way overto the hotel, however, he whistled bravely and jingled the goldenlargess in his pockets. He bade good night to Hillard and sought hisroom. Here he emptied his pockets on the table and built a shelvinghouse of gold. He sat down and began to count. Clink-clink! Clink-clink!What a pleasant sound it was, to be sure. It was sweeter than woman'slaughter. And what symphony of Beethoven's could compare with this?Clink-clink! Three hundred and ninety, four hundred, four hundred andten; clink-clink! And Hillard, turning restlessly on his pillow, heardthis harsh music away into the small hours of the morning. 

In the meantime the lamps in and about the Casino had been extinguished, and the marble house of the whirligig and the terraces lay in the palelight of the moon. Only the cafés remained open, and none but stragglersloitered there. The great rush of the night was done with, and thecurious had gone away, richer or poorer, but never a whit the wiser. Inthe harbor the yachts stood out white and spectral, and afar the searuffled her night-caps. The tram for Nice shrieked down the inclinetoward the promontory, now a vast frowning shadow. At the foot of theroad which winds up to the palaces the car was signaled, and two womenboarded. Both were veiled and exhibited signs of recent agitation. Theymaintained a singular silence. At Villefranche they got out, and the carwent on glowingly through the night. The women stopped before the gatesof a villa and rang the porter's bell. Presently he came down the pathand admitted them, grumbling. Once in the room above, the silencebetween the two women came to an end. 

"Safe! I am so tired. What a night!" the elder of the two women sighed. 

"What a night, truly! I should like to know what it has all been about. To run through dark streets and alleys, to hide for hours, as if I werea thief or a fugitive from justice, is neither to my taste nor to myliking. "

"Kitty!" brokenly. 

"I know! In a moment I shall be on my knees to you, but first I mustspeak out my mind. Why did you lose your head? Why did you not standperfectly still when you saw that we were followed from the Casino? Hewould not have dared to molest us in the open. No, you had to run!"

"He would have entered the car with us, he would have known where wewere going, he would have had the patience to wait till he saw beneathour veils. I know that man!" with a hopeless anger. 

"It was your flight. It told him plainly that you recognized him. "

"I was afraid, Kitty. It was instinct which caused me to fly, blindly. "

"And there you left me, standing like a fool, wondering whether to runor not. " Kitty was angry for half a dozen reasons. "And why should yourun from any man?"

La Signorina did not reply, preferring to hold her tongue, lest itoverthrow her. She unwound the thick veil and unpinned her hat. Herhands trembled, and in her eyes and about her mouth there was theweariness of ages. Yet, not all this weariness, not all these transitorylines of pain, took away one jot of her beauty. 

"Kitty, " she began sadly, "in this world no one trusts us wholly. Wemust know why, why; loyalty must have reasons, chivalry must have facts. You have vowed your love and loyalty a hundred times, and still, when agreat crisis confronts me, you question, you grow angry, you complain, because my reasons are unknown to you. Because I am lonely, because Ifeel the need of even your half-hearted loyalty, I shall tell you why, why. Do you know what terror is? No. Well, it was blind terror whichmade me run. I counted not the consequences; my one thought was ofinstant flight. I shall tell you why I am lonely, why the world, brightto you, is dark. I am proud, but I shall bend my pride. " With a quickmovement she lifted her head high and her eyes burned into Kitty's veryheart. "I am--"

"Stop! No, no! I forbid you!" Kitty put her hands over her ears. Shemight gain the secret, but she knew that she would lose the heart of thewoman it concerned. "I am wrong, wrong. I have promised to follow youloyally, without question. I will keep that promise. I am only angrybecause you would not let me speak to Mr. Hillard. And when he called meby name, it was doubly hard. Had I not seen your hand waving from thedoorway, I should have spoken. Who this Italian is I do not care. It issufficient that you fear him. And I myself harbor no kind feelingstoward him, " rubbing her bruised wrist. "And if he comes down one sideof the street I shall take to the other, to say nothing of dodging roundthe nearest corner. But he is very handsome, " Kitty added thoughtfully. 

"Are vipers handsome?"

"He is strong, too. "

"Strong and cruel as a tiger. How I hate him! But thank you, Kitty, thank you. Sooner or later, if we stay together, I must tell you. Theconfidence will do me good. Look into my eyes. " Kitty approached, and LaSignorina drew her close. "Look in them. They will tell you that I haveneither conspired nor plotted, save for my own happiness; that I havewrought harm to no one. But on my side they will tell you that I havebeen terribly wronged. And all I wish is to be left alone, alone. It wascruel of me to forbid you to speak to Mr. Hillard. But I do not want himtangled up in this miserable, hopeless labyrinth. I wish him torecollect me pleasantly, as a whimsical being who came into his life onenight and vanished out of it in two hours. "

"But supposing the memory cuts deeply?" ventured Kitty. "Men fall inlove with less excuse than this. "

"He does not even know what I look like; he knows absolutely nothingexcept the sound of my voice. "

"It is all a blind man needs--a voice. "

"Nonsense!" La Signorina opened the window to air the room. Shelingered, musing. "You are very good to me, Kitty. "

"I can't help being good to you, you strange, lovely woman! For yoursake as well as for mine, I hope my letter from home will be in Venicewhen we arrive. Now I am going to write a letter. "

La Signorina still lingered by the window. 

 * * * * *

Merrihew was pocketing currency in exchange for his gold, when Hillardpassed an opened letter to him. It was early in the morning; the sky wasas yellow as brass; patches of dew still dampened the sidewalks, and theair was still with the promise of heat in the later day. Merrihewstuffed the last bill into his wallet and gave his attention to theletter. He was not long indifferent, for the letter was from no less aperson than Kitty. It was, however, addressed to Hillard. 

 My dear Mr. Hillard--Do not seek us. It will be useless. This sounds terribly ungrateful, but it must be so. If Mr. Merrihew is with you, and I suspect he is, tell him that some day I will explain away the mystery. At present I know no more than you do. But this please make plain to him: If he insists upon searching for me, he will only double my unhappiness. 

 Kitty Killigrew. 

Merrihew soberly tucked the letter away. "I knew it, " he said simply. "She is in some trouble or other, some tangle, and fears to drag us intoit. Who left a letter here this morning?" he asked of the concierge. 

"A small boy from Villefranche. "

"Just my luck, " said Merrihew, his hands speaking eloquently. "I saidthat it would be of no use to hunt in the smaller towns. Well, we hadbetter take the luggage back to the rooms. "

"Why?" asked Hillard. 

"I am going to Villefranche. "

"You will be wasting time. After what happened last night, I am certainthat they will be gone. Let us not change our plans, and let us respecttheirs, hard as it may seem to you. "

"But you?"

"Oh, don't bother about me. I have relegated my little romance to thegarret of no-account things, at least for the present, " said Hillard, with an enigmatical smile. He sought his watch. "Make up your mind atonce; we have only twenty minutes. "

"Oh, divine afflatus! And you lay down the chase so readily as this?"Merrihew was scornfully indignant. 

"I would travel the breadth of the continent were I sure of meeting thiswoman. But she has become a will-o'-the-wisp, and I am too old and likecomfort too well to pursue impossibilities. "

"But why did she leave you that mask?" demanded Merrihew. "She must havemeant something by that. "

"True, but for the life of me I can't figure out what, unless she wishedto leave with me the last page of the adventure. "

"But I don't like the idea of leaving Kitty this way, without a finaleffort to rescue her from the clutches of this fascinating adventuress. For you must admit that she is naught else. "

"I admit nothing, my boy, save that the keenness of the chase is gone. "Hillard balanced his watch idly. "As for Kitty, she's a worldly littlewoman, and can take good care of herself. She is not likely to blunderinto any serious conspiracy. Her letter should be sufficient. "

"But it isn't. A woman's 'don't' often means 'do. ' If Kitty reallyexpects me to search for her and I do not, she will never believe in meagain. "

"Perhaps your knowledge of women is more extensive than mine, " saidHillard, without the least irony. 

But this flattery did not appeal to Merrihew. "Bosh! There's somethingyou haven't told me about that makes you so indifferent. "

This was a shrewd guess, but Hillard had his reasons for not letting hisfriend see how close he had shot. "A lady? Grace of Mary, that isdroll!" He could not cast this out of his thought. He floated betweenthis phrase and Mrs. Sandford's frank defense of her girlhood friend. Perhaps he was lacking in some particle of chivalry; perhaps he was notin love at all. And of what use to offer faith to one who refused it?

"Time flies, " he warned. "Which is it to be?"

"We'll go on to Venice. It would be folly for me to continue the huntalone. And if you went with me, your half-heartedness would be a damper. We'll go on to Venice. "

"Have you any cigars left?" smiling. 

"I have thrown away the boxes and filled my pockets. "

"That's better. But the Italians are not so severe as the French. Weshan't have any trouble recrossing into Italy. All aboard, then. "

Merrihew solemnly directed the porter to paste the scarlet labels on hiscases. He was beginning to take a certain blasé pride in his luggage. Already it had the appearance of having traveled widely. It would lookwell on week-end trips at home. 

At seven that evening they stepped out of the station in Venice. Theblue twilight of Venice, that curves down from the hollow heavens, softening a bit of ugliness here, accentuating a bit of lovelinessthere; that mysterious, incomparable blue which is without match orequivalent, and which flattens all perspective and gives to each scenethe look of a separate canvas! Here Merrihew found one of his dreamscome true, and his first vision of the Grand Canal, with its gondolasand barges and queer little bobtailed skiffs, was never to leave him. What impressed him most was the sense of peace and quiet. No one seemedin a hurry, for hurry carries with it the suggestion of noise andturmoil. Hillard hunted for his old gondolier, but could not find him. So he chose one Achille whose ferrule was bright and who carried thenumber 154. With their trunks, which they had picked up at Genoa, andsmall luggage in the hotel barge, they had the gondola all tothemselves. 

Instead of following the Grand Canal, Achille took the short cut throughthe Ruga di San Giovanni and the Rio di San Polo. It was earlymoonlight, and as they glided silently past the ancient marble church inthe Campo San Polo the fairy-like beauty of it caught Merrihew by thethroat. 

"This is the happy hunting grounds, " he said. "This beats all thecab-riding I ever heard of. And this is Venice!" He patted Hillard onthe shoulder. "I am grateful to you, Jack. If you hadn't positivelydragged me into it, I should have gone on grubbing, gone on thinkingthat I knew something about beauty. Venice!" He extended his arms as aMuezzin does when he calls to prayer. "Venice! The shade of Napoleon, ofOthello, of Portia, of Petrarch!"

Hillard smiled indulgently. "I love your enthusiasm, Dan. So long as aman has that, the rest doesn't matter. "

Out into the Grand Canal again, and another short cut by the way of theRio del Baccaroli. As they swept under the last bridge before coming outinto the hotel district, Hillard espied a beggar leaning over theparapet. The faint light of the moon shone full in his face. 

"Stop!" cried Hillard to Achille, who swung down powerfully on hisblade. Hillard stood up excitedly. 

The beggar took to his heels, and when Hillard stepped out of thegondola and gained the bridge, the beggar had disappeared. 

"Who was it?" asked Merrihew indifferently. 

"Giovanni!"

CHAPTER XVI

O'MALLY SUGGESTS

In a bedroom in one of the cheap little _pensiones_ which shoulder oneanother along the Riva degli Schiavoni, from the ducal palace to thepublic gardens, sat three men. All three were smoking execrable tobaccoin ancient pipes. Now and then this one or that consulted his watch(grateful that he still possessed it), as if expecting some visitor. Thecastaways of the American Comic Opera troupe were on the anxious seatthis morning. 

"Well, what do you think?" asked Smith. 

"Think? Why, she'll be here this morning, or I know nothing about women. That ring was worth a cool thousand. " O'Mally shook the nicotine fromhis pipe. "She'll be here, never you worry. But, " with a comic grimace, "it's dollars to doughnuts that both of 'em will be stone-broke. I knowsomething about that innocent little game called roulette. "

"But if she's broke, what the devil shall we do?" Smith put thisquestion in no calm frame of mind. 

"Forty dollars; it's a heap just now. "

"She said she had another plan, " said Worth. 

"If it's a plan which needs no investments, all well and good. But, onmy word, I wouldn't dare advance another cent. " Smith's brow wore manywrinkles. 

"Nor I, " said O'Mally. 

"Positively, no, " added Worth. 

O'Mally mused. "A bill from your tailor will reach you here in eightdays, but money! Looks as if they had sent it via Japan. "

"The one thing I'm sore about is the way she buncoed us into giving upour return tickets to the chorus. "

"Shame on you!" cried the generous O'Mally. "What chance had any of themon this side? Ten to one, nobody home could have sent them money. We mencan get along somehow. But I wish I could get some good plug-cut. ThisEnglish shoe-string tobacco burns like hot lead. "

"O'Mally, what's your opinion?"

"On what?"

"La Signorina, " said Worth. 

"What about her?"

"What do you think of her? She's not one of us; she belongs to anotherclass, and the stage is only an incident. "

"Well, I don't know what to think. I've pumped Killigrew, but she seemsto be in the dark with the rest of us. That ring and the careless wayshe offered it as security convinces me that she doesn't belong. Butwhat a voice! It lifts you out of your very boots. "

"Even when she talks, " said Smith. "Honestly, I'm glad she always wearsthat veil. I might make a jackass of myself. "

"It would be excusable, " rejoined Worth, pressing the coal in his pipeand blowing the strong, biting smoke above his head. "She is, withoutexception, one of the most beautiful women I ever saw or care to see. "He rose and walked over to the window and gazed down upon the quay, bright with morning sunshine and colorful with two human currents. 

Smith and O'Mally exchanged a swift, comprehensive look. There was onething upon which they agreed fully, but they had not yet put it intowords. When Worth returned to his chair his two companions wereinspecting the faded designs in the carpet. 

"In Rome there was a grand duke, " Worth remarked. 

"And how she played him!" laughed Smith. 

"And there you are! Imagine an American comic opera star refusing todine with a real duke! If anything convinces me, it is that. Think ofthe advertisement it would have been in New York! Think of the fat partfor the press agent! No, " continued O'Mally, "she doesn't belong. "

"The thing that sticks in my mind is the alternative which she haspromised to offer. " Worth eyed the ceiling. "She said that if she failedat Monte Carlo she had another plan. What? Pawning her jewels? I thinknot. But whatever it is, I expect to be counted in. "

"I, too, " agreed Smith. 

O'Mally took the small brilliant from his necktie and contemplated itsadly. "The outsiders make fun of us for toting round these sparklers;but often it's board and car-fare home. I paid seventy-five for this; Imight be able to raise thirty on it. Of course, she's backed us finelywith the hotel man; but if she shouldn't return, it's strapped the threeof us will be. And no letters at Cook's this morning. "

"Oh, if worst comes to worst, the American consul will forward us to NewYork. I'm not going to borrow any trouble. " And Worth in his turn foundemployment in the carpet patterns. Presently he got up briskly. "I'mgoing down to the office. "

"Bureau, " corrected O'Mally. 

"Bureau. There might be a note or something. " Worth smiled. 

When he was out of the way O'Mally nodded wisely to his friend Smith. 

"I hope he won't make a fool of himself over her. "

"He has the symptoms. I've seen 'em before, " replied Smith jocularly. "But he's an odd duffer, and there's no knowing what he'll do before theround-up. It's a fine go, anyhow. Here we are, handsomely strandedthousands of miles from home. The only chance I have of finding money ina letter is to sign for next season and draw down enough to pay for asteamer ticket. As for a bank account, Lord! I never had one. I havemade two offers for my versatile talents, but no line yet. "

O'Mally laughed. "Same boat. I've written to my brother, who has alwaysheld that I'm a good-for-nothing. And he may see in this predicament ofmine a good chance to be rid of me permanently. But I believe Worth hasa bank account at home. He is close-mouthed about his affairs. Hereceived some letters yesterday, but when I quizzed him he made out hedidn't hear me. I didn't crowd him. Hope he won't make a fool of himselfover La Signorina. Sh! he's coming back. "

The door opened and Worth beckoned. "They are in the parlor, waiting. Idon't know what news they bring. "

There was a brightness in his eyes that meant unmistakable things to histwo companions. They laid aside their pipes, tidied up a bit, and wentdown to the stuffy salon. The two women rose as the men entered. Therewas good cheer and handshaking. O'Mally's heart sank, however, as hetouched the hand of La Signorina. There was no joy in the pressure, nothing but sympathy and subtle encouragement. 

"Come, " he said cheerfully, "put us out of our misery. Confess that youare both broke, and that Monte Carlo is still on the map. "

As a preamble La Signorina raised the inevitable veil to the rim of herhat. Worth sat down in the darkest corner whence he could withoutinconvenience feast his eyes upon her beauty. Her tale was short andlightly told, with an interpolation now and then by Kitty. 

"I was very foolish, " said the erstwhile prima donna. "I might haveknown that when one is unlucky one may become still more unlucky. Thesuperlative of bad luck has been my portion. But I did so wish to win. Iwanted to bring back enough gold to send you all to America. "

"But what was to become of you?" asked Worth from behind his fortress ofshadow. 

"I?" She paused with indecision. The question was not expected. "Oh, Italy is my home. I shall find a way somehow. Put me out of yourthoughts entirely. But I am sorry to bring you this bitterdisappointment, for it must be bitter. You have all been so good andpatient in your misfortune. "

"Forget it, " said O'Mally. "Sure, we're no worse off than we werebefore. And here we've had a whole week of hope and fine air-castles. I've seen 'em tumble down so often that I've a shell like a turtle'snow. Forget it. "

"But there is one thing I wish to understand thoroughly, " put in Worthslowly. 

"And that?" La Signorina was never sure of this man. He was deeper thanthe others; he had more polish, more knowledge of the world at large; hewas a gentleman by birth. He was a puzzle, and at this period she wasnot overfond of shifting puzzles into answers. 

"You have guaranteed our credit at this hotel. By what means?" Worthheld her eye with courage. 

"My word, " she answered, finding that she could not beat down his eye. 

"I know something of these foreign hotel managers. Words are all right, but they must be backed by concrete values. " Worth's eye was stillsteady and unwavering. "If, as I believe, you have guaranteed our credithere by means of jewels, we must know. "

She appealed silently to O'Mally, but he shook his head determinedly. 

"It's only right that we should know, " he said, wondering why this thinghad never entered his thick skull before. 

"Let us not indulge in fine sentiment. I have guaranteed your credithere; how I have done so, ought not to matter much. "

"But it does, " countered Worth. "If by more than word, we insist uponknowing. " Worth spoke with feeling. "Do not for a moment doubt myattitude. I understand and appreciate your great generosity. We areabsolutely nothing to you, and you are not responsible for ourmisfortunes. But we men have some pride left. A man might do for us whatyou have done and we should accept it without comment; but a woman, no. That alters the case entirely. "

"Is it from a sense--a misguided sense--of chivalry?" she asked, herlips suggesting a smile. 

"That's probably it, " O'Mally answered. 

And Smith inclined his head in approval. 

"You are evading us, " went on Worth, not having moved from his stand. 

"You insist, then?" coldly. 

"Positively insist. If you do not tell us, we shall be forced to pay ourbill and take our chances elsewhere. " Worth pressed the button in thewall. A servant appeared directly. "The manager, at once. "

La Signorina dropped her veil and sat stiffly in her chair. Kitty moveduneasily. Was the man crazy to cross La Signorina like this? The managerappeared. He bowed. 

"Madame here, " began Worth, indicating La Signorina, "has guaranteed ourcredit at your hotel. "

"Yes. Is not everything satisfactory?" asked the manager eagerly. 

"By what means has she established our credit? And do you know her?"

"I never saw madame before till she came here with you gentlemen. Whatis the trouble?" His brow wrinkled worriedly. 

"What security did madame advance?"

"Security?" The manager looked at La Signorina, but she rendered him notthe least assistance. "I have given my word to madame not to tell. "

"In that case we three gentlemen shall leave this afternoon. You willmake out our bill at once. "

This time the manager appealed to the lady eloquently. 

"You are three foolish men, " spoke La Signorina impatiently. "If themanager wishes to tell you he may do so. I give him permission. "

The careless way she assigned the third person to the manager more thanever convinced Worth that somewhere and at some time La Signorina hadcommanded. 

"The security I have, gentlemen, is quite sufficient, " said the manager. 

"Produce it, " said Worth. He realized that he had angered La Signorina, and he now regretted his scruples, which in this instance had theirfoundation on mere curiosity. He would not retreat now. 

The manager brought forth a fat wallet and opened it. Out of this hetook a flat object wrapped in tissue-paper. Very tenderly he unfoldedit. The treasure was a diamond pendant, worth at least a thousanddollars. 

"I was to keep this, simply till madame chose to reclaim it. Nothing hasbeen advanced against it. " A new thought came into the manager's mind, and he turned slightly pale. "If it is not madame's--?"

"It is mine, " said La Signorina. She was very angry, but her sense ofjustice admitted that Worth was perfectly right. "Once more I ask younot to make me miserable by forcing this trinket back upon me. Will youdo me the honor to wait till to-morrow morning?"

The three men involved exchanged questioning looks. 

"Till to-morrow morning, then, " said Worth. "That will be all, " headded, to the manager, who was willing enough to make his escape. 

"You will forgive us, won't you?" asked O'Mally. "It could not be. Wemen have some ideas in our heads that you can't knock out with a club. It was fine of you. You've a heart as big as all outdoors. We'll keepthe thought behind the deed. Eh, boys? Do not be angry with us. "

"I am only angry to have been found out, " she answered, notungraciously. Then she laughed. "You are the strangest people! One wouldthink, to hear you talk, that I was giving you all this, when I merelyadvanced security till your remittances come. Well, well, we shall sayno more about it. I have a plan to lay before you that is a vastly moreinteresting matter. It will be something of an adventure to us all. "

"Adventure?" O'Mally ran his tongue across his lips like a thirsty mancoming unexpectedly upon a pool of spring-water. 

"Adventure? Let us be gone upon it at once, " said Worth, anxious toreturn into the graces of this singular woman. 

"Any place, so long as there's board and keep in it, " Smith declared. 

Kitty tried to read La Signorina's eyes. What madness this time?

La Signorina again raised her veil. From her girdle-bag she took aletter, which she unfolded across her knees. "As I have said, I havefriends in Italy, and some of them are rich and powerful. This letter isfrom a friend I have always known. Has any one of you ever heard of thePrincipessa di Monte Bianca?"

A thoughtful frown passed from one face to another; and each strove torecall this name among half-forgotten memories. Finally, one by one theyshook their heads. The name had a familiar echo, but that was all. Itwas quite possible that they had seen it in the Paris edition of the_Herald_. 

"Let me read this letter to you. She addresses me as Capricciosa, mystage name. "

Her audience leaned forward attentively. 

 My Dear--I was very glad indeed to hear from you, and I shall be only too happy to offer you the temporary assistance you desire. You will recollect that I possess a villa just outside of Florence, a mile or so north of Fiesole. I have never been inside of it but once, in my childhood. The villa is furnished and kept in repair by an ancient gardener and his wife. You and your friends are welcome to occupy the Villa Ariadne as long as you please. You will find one annoyance: in the ravine below the Eighth Corps has a shooting range, and it is noisy when the wind is in the east. Of course you will find all the chests, bureaus, sideboards and closets under seal; for I have not been there since the death of my father. None of the seals may be removed till I occupy the villa legally. However, the gardener and his wife have silver and linen and china, and with these you will be able to get along nicely. The fruits and roses and garden truck will be wholly yours, and if you are vegetarians you can live without expense for weeks. Take the villa, then, and enjoy yourselves. It is rather out of the beaten track, though at times it is invaded by tourists. Besides this letter I am giving you one of official authority, for there is always some formality. If you should need any financial aid, do not hesitate to call upon me. 

 La Principessa di Monte Bianca. 

"A villa!" exclaimed Kitty rapturously. So many villas had she seen, guarded by Lombardy poplars or cypresses, that her mind hungered to livein one, if never so shortly. 

"And the villa of a princess!" sighed O'Mally. "Fudge! I'm a patriot, all right, but may I be hanged if I shouldn't like to meet a princess, the real article, just once. What do you say, Smith?"

"Sure! It would be something to brag about. 'When I was in Florence myfriend, the Princess di Whadeyuhcallit, said to me, ' and so forth. Sounds good. But it's an idle dream, Tom, an idle dream. "

"Will you permit me to read the letter?" asked Worth. 

La Signorina consented. Worth had an idea; it was as yet nebulous;still, it was a shrewd idea, and needed only a small space to stand. Themoment he saw the letter the nebulous idea became opaque. The page wasneatly typewritten in Italian, and only the signature was in ink. It wasa small, slanting, aristocratic signature. 

"Do you read Italian?" she asked with pardonable malice. 

"Very little, and nothing on this page. " Worth felt embarrassed underher glance. Still he continued to stare at the letter. The crest on thepaper, the postmark on the envelope, convinced him of its authenticity. The date was quite recent, and did not correspond with their unhappysojourn in the Imperial City. 

"The question is, shall we accept this offer?" She refolded the letter. "This was the plan I had in mind when we went to Monte Carlo, and a muchbetter plan, too. "

"Of course, we shall accept it, " said Worth, confident that the mysterywas still there, but that for the present he had been fooled. 

"But what's the matter with your playing the princess to the neighbors?"suggested O'Mally, his eyes laughing. "I'll be the concierge, Smith thesteward, and Kitty your maid. "

"And I?" asked Worth. 

"Oh, you can be her Highness' private secretary and attend to thecorrespondence. "

The laughter which followed this was light-hearted and careless. Oncemore worry had taken to wing and they were without burdens. Only LaSignorina did not join the merriment. The sparks in her eyes, the silverpoints of light, the flash of excitement, portended something. She rosewith a determined air. 

"Mr. O'Mally makes a very good suggestion. It will be an adventure worthrecounting. I shall go as the princess. What sport with the countrygentlemen! This will be an adventure after one's own heart. Her Highnesscommands! Will it not be delightful?"

Worth looked at O'Mally, who looked at Smith, who looked at Kitty; thenall four looked at La Signorina. 

"Are you not lightening our trials by joking?" asked Worth dubiously. 

"I am positively serious. "

"Impossible! It would be nothing less than madness to fly in the face ofthis stroke of luck. "

"Call it madness, if you like. I shall go as the princess. "

"But the authorities! It will be prison. "

"I am sufficiently armed for any event. It all depends upon yourcourage, " with a veiled insolence calculated to make any man commit anykind of folly. 

"It is not a question of courage, " replied O'Mally; "it's prudence. "

"Prudence in an Irishman?" more insolent than ever. 

"Oh, if you take that tone, " said O'Mally, coloring, "why, the thing isdone. Henceforth I am your major-domo. No one can call me a coward. "

"O'Mally!"

"That's all right, Worth, " said O'Mally. "I wouldn't turn back now forsixty-seven jails. You need not join. "

"I shan't desert you in a strait like this, " remarked Worth quietly. "Only, I think La Signorina rather cruel to force such a situation uponus, when it was entirely unnecessary. Put me against thecorrespondence. "

"If I wasn't flat broke, " said Smith, "I'd bow out politely. But wherethe grub-stake goes I must go. But I don't like this business a littlebit. Signorina, do tell us that it's a joke. "

"Yes, " cried Kitty, still in doubt. 

"I repeat, I am perfectly serious. "

"But the consequences!" protested Kitty, now terrified. 

"Consequences? I shall find a way to avoid them. "

"But supposing some one who knows the real princess happens along?" saidWorth, putting in his final argument. 

"If I get into trouble of that sort, her Highness will help me out. Ithank Mr. O'Mally for his suggestion. "

"Don't mention it, " returned O'Mally dryly. Inwardly he was cursing hisimpulsive Irish blood. 

"It is agreed, then, that to-morrow we depart for Florence as thePrincipessa di Monte Bianca and suite?"

Tears began to fill Kitty's eyes. To have everything spoiled like this!La Signorina would land them all in prison. 

"There's a legal side to it, " Smith advanced cautiously. "The law maynot see the jest from your point of view. "

"I believe I am clever enough to meet any contingency of that order. "

"I give up, " said Worth despondently. "But your princess must be a verydear friend for you to take such liberties with her name. "

"She appreciates a jest as thoroughly as I do; moreover, she will standby me in anything I may do. To-morrow morning, then. We shall go directto Florence and engage carriages to take us out to the Villa Ariadne. Weare all capable enough actors to carry out the venture successfully. Andnow, to relieve Mr. Worth's chivalrous mind, I shall reclaim my pendant. You will doubtless have enough money to forward yourselves to Florence. Once you arrive there, you will leave the further burdens upon myshoulders. Come, Kitty, we must be going. I know that I can rely uponyou gentlemen to enter with full spirit into the adventure. "

"We are all crazy, but who cares?" O'Mally cried. But he trembled in hisboots, and thought vainly of a certain comfortable chop-house on oldBroadway. 

The three men bowed ceremoniously. Worth opened the door for the women, and when it closed after them he turned savagely toward O'Mally. 

"You--_ass_!"

"There are others!" retorted O'Mally, afire. "You agreed; so drop it. But what the devil are we going to do?"

"That's the question!" Smith got out his pipe. 

"We are all going to the Villa Ariadne, and from there to jail!" AndWorth flung out of the salon. 

"Jail, " mused O'Mally. "Blame me, if I don't believe he's right!"

CHAPTER XVII

GIOVANNI

It is in early morning that one should discover the Piazza San Marco. Few travelers, always excepting the Teutonic pilgrims, are up and about;and there is room for one's elbows in the great quadrangle. The dovesare hungry then; and they alight on your hands, your arms, yourshoulders, and even your hat. They are greedy and wise besides. Hiddenamong the statues above the arcades and in the cornices of thecathedral, they watch you approach the vender of corn. In a moment theyare fluttering about you like an autumn storm of leaves, subsidingquickly; blue-grey doves with white under-wings and coral feet. Duringthe season the Venetian photographers are kept busy printing fromamateur films. For who is so indifferent as not to wish to be snapped afew times with the doves forming a heavenly halo above one's head, one'sbody in a sentimental pose, and one's eyes looking straight into thecamera? Well, well; this is as near saintliness as most of us will everget. 

How the warm sunshine brightens the worn marbles, or flashes from themany windows, or sparkles from the oriental domes! And the coloredmarbles of the ducal palace fairly palpitate. In the bronze fountain atthe left of the cathedral will be more doves taking their morningablutions. 

It was such a picture Merrihew and Hillard, his guide, came upon themorning following their arrival. They had not visited it during thenight. They had, with the usual impatience of men, gone directly to theCampo Santa Maria Formosa for the great reward. They had watched andwaited till near midnight, but in vain. For once Hillard's usualkeenness had been at fault. He had forgotten that the Campo was to beentered from two ways, by gondola and by foot. He and Merrihew hadsimply guarded the bridge. 

"I wonder why Giovanni ran away last night, " said Merrihew, balancing adove on his hand. 

"I wonder, too, " replied Hillard. "It is possible that he did notrecognize me. I find that each day means a new wonder of some sort. Giovanni knows that I would do anything in my power to help him. But heruns away at the sight of me. In fact, they _all_ run away from me. Imust have the evil eye. " He was shaking the cornucopia free of the lastkernel of corn when he saw something which caused him to stifle anexclamation. "Dan, " he said, "keep on feeding the doves. If I'm not backinside of ten minutes, return to the hotel and wait for me. Noquestions; I'll tell you everything later. "

Merrihew's eyes widened. What now? His tongue longed to wag, but by thistime he was readily obeying Hillard in all things. 

A neat little woman was buying corn. Hillard stepped over to her andtouched her arm. As she faced him, he raised his hat, smiling. 

"Oh!" The corn spilled in a golden shower, and the doves, fickle as allflighty things are, deserted Merrihew for the moment. 

"And where may I find your distinguished mistress?" Hillard askedpleasantly. 

"She is not in the Campo Formosa, signore. " Bettina, recovering herscattered wits, laughed. 

"But you were--last night. "

"Yes. I watched you and your friend for some time. " Bettina's eyes weremerry. She would play with him. Everything was so tedious now. 

"Your mistress is in Venice. "

"Perhaps. At least her maid is. "

"I should not dare suggest a bribe, " he said slyly. 

"You might make the attempt, just to see what I should do. "

Merrihew stood watching them, having lost interest in the doves. 

"Supposing I should drop a hundred-lire note, accidentally, and walkaway?" Hillard twisted the ends of his mustache. 

"But first I should have to tell you, accidentally, where my mistressis?"

"That, of course. "

"A hundred-lire note!" To Bettina this was an enormous sum in theseunfortunate days. Her resolution wavered. "A hundred-lire note!" Shefelt that she could make no strong defense against such an assault. 

Hillard drew the note from his pocket and crinkled it. "A new dress andbits of lace. "

Bettina saw duty one way and avarice the other. Her mistress would neverknow. Still, if she should find out that she, Bettina, had betrayed her!Was a hundred-lire note worth the risk of losing her mistress? She beganto think deeply. At length she shook her head sorrowfully. 

"No, signore. I dare not. "

"But a hundred lire!"

"Ah, no, no!" Bettina put her hands over her ears. 

"Then I shall follow you step by step, all the day long. "

She searched for the jest in his eyes, but there was none. Yes, he woulddo it. How was she to escape him? Her glance traveled here and there. Bythe glass-shop on the corner she espied two _carabinieri_. There lay theway. 

"Do you see them?" she asked. 

"The _carabinieri_? Yes. " But he swore under his breath, as heunderstood the drift of her inquiry. 

"I shall ask them to hold you. "

"But I have done nothing. "

"Not yet, but you will attempt to follow me. "

"Begin, " he said, with a banter. 

"What's the row, Jack?" Merrihew called out impatiently. Why didn't theytalk in a language a fellow could understand?

"Stay where you are, Dan. " To Bettina, Hillard repeated: "Begin. "

She dusted her hands of the corn and walked resolutely toward the_carabinieri_. Hillard, equally resolute, followed, but with a rovingeye which took in all things ostensibly save Bettina. He had a plan bywhich he proposed to circumvent any interference by the guardians. AndBettina aided him, for she never turned her head till she stood at theside of the _carabinieri_. 

"Signori, this man is following me, " she said. Hillard came on and wouldhave passed, but they stopped him. 

"You are following the signorina, " said one. 

"I? What put such a preposterous idea into the lady's head?" Hillarddemanded indignantly. 

For a moment the _carabinieri_ entertained some doubt. 

"He is following me, I tell you, " Bettina reiterated. "I do not wish himill. Simply detain him till I am out of sight. "

This was not unreasonable. "It shall be as the little signorina wishes;"and the _carabinieri_ laughed. It was some jest, and they would taketheir part in it willingly. 

Hillard resigned, and Bettina took to her heels. Her victory was apermanent one, for the _carabinieri_ released Hillard only when theyknew it would be impossible for him to take up the pursuit. So, takinghis defeat philosophically, Hillard returned to Merrihew. 

"Well, what was it?" asked Merrihew, scattering the doves. 

"Did I ever tell you about Bettina?"

"Bettina? No. "

"Well, she is the maid. The women we are looking for are here in Venice. Now, what's on the program for the rest of the morning?"

Merrihew jammed his hands into his pockets. "Oh, let's go and take alook at the saints. I'm in the mood for it. "

So the two set out at the heels of the German tourists. They wentthrough the cathedral and the ducal palace, and when the bronze clockbeat out the noon hour Merrihew was bursting with information such aswould have filled any ordinary guide-book. He never dreamed that theworld held so many different kinds of stone or half so many saints. Asthey started off for the hotel he declared that he would be willing togive ten dollars for a good twenty-round fight, as a counter-irritant. 

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself!" cried Hillard. 

"I know it. It's like caviar; the taste has to grow. I'm capable of onlya limited artistic education, Jack; so feed me slowly. "

"You're in love. "

"That's better than growing maudlin over a raft of saints who never didme any good. Your Titians and your Veroneses are splendid; there's colorand life there. But these cross-eyed mosaics!" Merrihew threw up hishands in protest. 

Hillard let go his laughter. Merrihew was amusing, and his frankness inregard to his lack of artistic temperament in nowise detracted from hisconsiderable accomplishments. 

As they passed out of the quadrangle a man accosted them. It wasGiovanni, with a week's growth of beard on his face, his clothes raggedand his shoes out at the toes. Swiftly he enjoined silence. 

"Follow me, " he said softly. 

He led them through tortuous streets, over canal after canal, toward theCampo San Angelo. He came to a stop before a dilapidated tenement andsignified that the journey was at an end. The three mounted the dustyworn stairs of stone to the third landing; and from all sides they wereassailed by the odor of fish and garlic. Giovanni opened a door and badethem enter. 

"Why did you run away from me last night, Giovanni?"

"I was afraid. When I returned for you, you were gone. But last night Iwas a fugitive, in hiding. To-day I am free, " with an exultant note. 

"Free?" said Hillard, astonished. 

"I shall explain. I have been to Paris. Come. "

Seated by the window which overlooked the little canal was a youngwoman. Her hands lay passively in her lap, and her head was lowered. Thepose was resignation. She did not stir as they entered. 

"You have found her?" whispered Hillard, a great pity swelling hisheart. What, after all, were his own petty troubles in the face of thistragedy?

"_Carissime?_" called the father, his voice thrilling with boundlesslove. 

At the sound she turned her head. Her face, thin and waxen, was stillbeautiful, ethereally beautiful, but without life. She was, perhaps, three and twenty. 

"I have brought an old friend to see you, " said Giovanni. "Do youremember the Signore Hillard?"

"Oh, yes! I am glad. " She stood up. 

Hillard offered his hand awkwardly, and hers touched it with the chilldampness of snow. 

"We are going back to the Sabine Hills, Enrichetta and I. " The old manrubbed his hands joyously. "Eh, _carissime_?"

"Yes, father, " with a smile which had neither gladness nor interest init. 

"But dare you?" asked Hillard in an undertone. 

"Yes. A great noble has interceded for me. The news of his success camethis early morning. I am free; I may walk with men again. "

Merrihew leaned against the wall, uneasy and wishing himself anywherebut here. Tender and generous, he hated the sight of pain. They weretalking in Italian, but intuitively he translated. What a devil of aworld it was!

Giovanni made his daughter sit down again, patted her cheeks, thenpushed his friends into another room, closing the door. 

"I found her, " he said in English, the chords in his throat standingout. "And Mother of Christ, how I have suffered! She was dancing. Shehad to sit at tables and drink with the men. That, or the Seine. Whenshe saw me she gave a great cry and fell. She has not been like herself, but that will pass away in time. Now she sits in silence and broods. Iwent to the Italian ambassador. He heard my story in full. He wrotepersonally to the king. To-day I am free. I have had to walk from Milan, almost. I had little money. That letter of credit--so you call it?--iswith my cousin in Sorrento. "

"How much will you need to get to Rome?"

"Hold on, Jack, " interposed Merrihew. "I'll take care of the financialend. I won money at Monte Carlo, Giovanni; so it will hurt nobody if youtake five hundred francs. "

Giovanni scorned to hide his tears. Ah, these Americans! Who could matchthem for impulsive generosity? "I will pay it back, " he said. 

"No, I give it to you, Giovanni. It will ease my conscience of the sinof gambling. "

"Both of you will live to a good old age, " said Giovanni prophetically. "Good men are needed in the world, and God doesn't take all of themyoung. "

"And the man?" Hillard could not refrain from putting this question. 

Giovanni looked down. "The signore told me never to speak of thatagain. "

"So I did, " replied Hillard. "But all is changed now. "

"Do you think so?" Giovanni did not smile. 

"Go back to your hills with your daughter and leave vengeance in thehands of God. Forget this man who has wronged you. You are free now; andwith care and love you may bring happiness back to her. Forget. "

"If he does not cross my path; and if she lives. I have suffered toogreatly to forgive and forget. I promise not to seek him. "

This was a great victory, and Hillard thrust out his hand. Giovanni didnot take it. 

"No, signore, I have only promised not to seek him. "

Merrihew, to divert the trend of conversation, counted out five hundredfrancs. "Here's your money, Giovanni. "

"Thank you!" Giovanni put the bills away. In the best of times he wasnot voluble. "I shall now leave Venice at once. I have friends inFiesole, near Florence. "

"Good-by, then, Giovanni. Take good care of yourself, " said Hillard. 

"And you will visit me when you come to Rome?" asked Giovanni earnestly. 

"Surely. "

The old man went down to the street with them. They were so kind. Hehated the thought of losing them. But let them come to the Sabines;there would be wine in plenty, and tobacco, and cherries. He remainedstanding in the door till they took the turn for the bridge. They wavedtheir hands cheerily and vanished from sight. They never saw Giovanniagain; yet his hand was to work out the great epoch in Hillard'sdestiny. 

"Poor devil!" said Merrihew. "You remember, Jack, that I once went infor medicine?"

"Yes. "

"Well, I have some part of the gift yet. That little girl will not livethree months; heart. There is such a thing as a broken heart, and thegirl has it. "

"Then Heaven help Giovanni and the man who caused this!"

CHAPTER XVIII

THE ARIA FROM IL TROVATORE

"Shall we take a look into the Campo Formosa again to-night?" askedMerrihew, stepping into the gondola. 

"It will be a waste of time. Bettina will have warned them. What's theItalian coming to, anyhow? She refused a hundred francs. But I can seethat Mrs. Sandford had a hand in this latest event. She has probablywritten that we might look for them in the Campo. " Hillard spoke in adiscontented tone. "Oh, bother the both of them! Let us loaf round thebarges of the serenaders and hear the singing. I want to be amusedto-night. "

"All right; we'll listen to the music, " grumbled Merrihew. He wanted tofind Kitty right away. He would gladly have started out and exploredevery Campo in Venice that night. Hillard's indifference annoyed him. 

"To the barges of the troupes!" said Hillard to Achille, who pushed offwith a series of short strokes. 

In the great canal of San Marco the scene was like a water-carnival. Hundreds of gondolas, with bobbing lights, swam slowly round the bargesof the serenaders, who, for the most part, were fallen operatic stars orthose who had failed to attain those dizzy heights. Many of them hadgood voices, but few of them last long in the damp Venetian night air. To-night there were three of these belanterned barges, taking theirstands about three hundred yards apart. The glowing coals of cigarettesand cigars of the men in the gondolas were like low-lying stars, and thecold, bright flash of jewels woke here and there among the manybeautifully gowned women. From one barge to another the gondolasdrifted, finally clustering round the middle barge of the Troupe SanMarco, which offered the best voices. Between songs a man of acrobaticaccomplishments would jump nimbly from the prow of one gondola toanother, stepping lightly here, balancing neatly there, and always withthe upturned tambourine extended for silver and copper largess. 

Merrihew sat in the bottom of the gondola, while Hillard lay sprawledacross the cushions on the seat. The prima donna was singing thejewel-song from Faust, and not badly. Sometimes the low hum of voicesfloated across the cadence of the song. Merrihew scanned the faces ofall those near him, but never a face took on familiar lines. An Adriaticliner loomed up gray and shadowy behind them, and some of the crew wereleaning idly over the rail. The song stopped. The man with thetambourine sallied forth. Out of the momentary silence came theindistinct tinkle of the piano in the barge beyond; some one over therewas bellowing the toreador's song. This died away amid a faint patter ofapplause. How clear all the sounds were! thought Merrihew. The tenor ofthe San Marco troupe rose with the prima donna. It was _Il Trovatore_this time; a bit noisy. 

What was that? Hillard was no longer lethargic. He stumbled over therecumbent Merrihew. 

"Why don't you walk all over me?" growled Merrihew. "Sit down!"

"Be still!" said Hillard roughly. 

From a gondola on the far side of the barge, standing out of the pressand just beyond the radiance of the lanterns, never powerful at best, came another voice, a voice which had a soul in it, a voice which brokeinto song for the pure joy of it, spontaneously. Clear, thrilling, avoice before which the world bows down. The prima donna in the barge wasclever; she stopped. The tenor went on, however, recognizing that he wasplaying opposite, as they say, to a great singer. Hillard's heart beatfast. That voice! There could not be another like it. And she was herein Venice!

"Achille, " he said, "do you hear that voice over there in the dark?"

"Yes, signore. "

"Push round to it. See, the singer is standing up now. Hurry!"

This sounded important, and Merrihew scrambled to his feet. Yes, he, too, could see this unexpected cantatrice. In fact, everybody wasbeginning to stand up. All interest was centered in this new voice. Then, as if conscious of this interest, the singer sat down, but stillkept to the melody. Achille backed out of the jam, stole round thebarge, and craftily approached the outstanding gondola. The two menstill remained on their feet. 

"Quick, Achille!" For the far gondola was heading for the Grand Canal. 

Merrihew understood now. He grasped Hillard's arm excitedly. 

"Follow!" commanded Hillard. "Ten lire if you can come up alongside thatgondola. Can you see the number?"

"It is 152, signore; Pompeo. It will be a race, " doubtfully. 

"No matter; follow. It will be worth your while. "

And a race it became. Both gondoliers were long past their youth, buteach knew the exact weight and effort to be put upon the oar; no uselessenergy, no hurried work, no spurting, but long, deep swinging strokes. Up the Grand Canal, past the brilliant hotels. The runaway gondola hadperhaps a hundred yards the best of it. Achille hung on, neither losingnor gaining a foot. 

"Sit down, signori!" said Achille. 

Hillard and Merrihew tumbled back upon the cushions. 

"We shall not lose them this time, Dan. "

"Are we gaining?"

"Not yet. But wait till they turn into some small canal. "

The first loop of the Grand Canal was turned; still Pompeo made noeffort to seek the smaller canals. Not till he passed under the Rialto, which afforded him a deep shadow, did he turn. Swiftly he bore into thecanal which was filled with the postal-gondolas. But not so soon thatAchille did not perceive and follow. On and on, soundless; now thepursuer had the advantage over the pursued. It was Pompeo who had towatch, to call; Achille had only to hang on. And he was gaining. Amoment later less than ten yards intervened. O for some clumsy barge tobar the way! Round past the Teatro Malibran, into the Rio di San Marina, into a smaller canal again. Hillard now knew whither they were bound:the Campo Formosa. 

At each stroke Merrihew swung forward his body. The end of the race camesooner than any one expected. A police barge nosed round an ell; by thetime Pompeo was off again, the ferrule of the pursuing gondola scrapedpast Pompeo's blade. Pompeo called and Achille answered. There was a warof words, figure of a dog, name of a pig. Achille was in the wrong, butten lire were ten lire. And he knew that his gentlemen meant no harm. 

Hillard caught the gondola by the rail and clung. The canal, lined witha dozen lime barges, became so narrow that Achille could scarce paddle, and Pompeo's oar was useless, being partly under the opposing gondola. The race was over. 

"Signorina, " said Pompeo, boiling with rage, "shall I call the police?"

"No, Pompeo, " said his solitary passenger. 

When Merrihew saw that she was alone, his heart became heavy, and thejoy of the chase was gone. But not so with Hillard. At last!

"To the Campo, Pompeo. Mr. Hillard, will you kindly follow? I wouldspeak to you alone, since there is no escape. "

Her tone chilled Hillard's ardor somewhat. But to speak to her again, and mayhap see her face!

"Doesn't want the police, " whispered Merrihew. "I told you so. Look outfor yourself. "

The gondolas became free presently, and the way to the Campo Formosa wasmade without further incident. 

"She wishes to see me alone, Dan. You stay in the boat, I'll find outwhere Kitty is. "

The gondolas became moored. Hillard jumped out and went to assist LaSignorina, but she ignored his outstretched hand. This was not apromising beginning. 

"To the church steps, Mr. Hillard, " she said. 

He followed her meekly. Merrihew sulked among the cushions. 

The solitary electric lamp in the Campo made light enough; and when thetwo arrived at the steps the woman turned. 

"What is it you wish?" she asked. There was not the slightest agitationin her voice; there was not even curiosity. 

"One look at your face, " he answered simply. 

She slowly removed the veil. Then, for the first time, he looked uponthe face of this woman who had burdened his dreams. The face was notlike any he had conjured. It seemed to him that Vecchio's--PaolaVecchio's--Barbara had stepped down from her frame: beauty, tranquil, flawless beauty. A minute passed; he was incapable of speech, he couldonly look. 

"Well?" she said, in the same expressionless tone. 

"Let us begin at the beginning, " he replied, with an effort to imitatethe evenness of her tone. 

"Since this is to be the end. "

"Why did you answer my personal in the first place? Why did you notignore it? I should have been left in peace. "

"An impulse of the moment, which I shall always regret. "

"Why did you let it go so far as to permit me to dine with you thatmemorable night?"

"A second impulse, equally regrettable. "

"And why, after all had come to an apparent end, why did you send methat mask?"

She did not answer at once. 

"Why?" he repeated. 

"It is unanswerable. Truthfully, I do not know. "

"Have you thought what all this might mean to me?" with warmth. 

Again she was silent, but her eyes did not waver. 

"When I heard your voice to-night I knew that doubt was no longer in myheart. "

"Doubt?"

"Yes, doubt. I knew then that the inexplicable had happened. "

"I do not understand. "

"The inexplicable. For who will believe that it is possible for a saneman to fall in love with a voice? Had your face been scarred, as I oncesuspected; had you committed some crime, as I once believed, it wouldnot matter. I am mad. " He laughed angrily. "Yes, I love you, knowing notwhat you are nor caring. I have been mad for weeks, only I did not seemy madness in true colors till this moment. "

The light seemed to bother her eyes, for she turned her head aside, giving this mad lover the exquisite profile of her face. 

"You are indeed mad, or, rather, your jest is. "

"Would to Heaven I were jesting! And why did you avoid me in MonteCarlo?"

She realized that there was some justice in his questions and that shewas not altogether innocent of the cause of his madness, if it werethat. 

"I did not speak to you because I wished to avoid this very moment. Butsince it was destined to be, let us have done. What other questionswould you ask, Mr. Hillard?"

"Who is that man--the Italian with the scar--who ran after you thatnight?"

"I will not answer that. "

"'A lady? Grace of Mary, that is droll!'"

"Why do you say that?"

"I am only quoting the man with the scar. Those were the words he usedin regard to you. "

"Perhaps he is right; perhaps I am not a lady, according to his lights. "But she laughed. 

"Do not laugh like that! What you are or have been, or might have beento him, is nothing to me. Only one fact remains clear, and that is, Ilove you. "

"No, Mr. Hillard, you are only excited. You have been letting yourimagination run away with you. Be sensible. Listen. You know nothing ofme; you have neither my name nor my past--nothing. I may in truth beeverything undesirable. "

"Not to me!"

"I may be a fugitive from the law. "

"I do not believe it. "

"There may be scars which do not show--in the heart, in the mind. I amsorry, terribly sorry. Heaven knows that I meant no harm. But it seemsthat fate is determined that every move I make shall become a folly, theghost of which shall pursue me. I told you to forget me, that I hadentered your life only to pass out of it immediately. Forget me!" Hervoice was no longer without expression. 

"Forget you? I would it were as easy as the asking! I say that I loveyou, that I shall always love you. But, " he added gently, lowering hisvoice, "I have asked nothing in return. "

"Nothing in return?" she murmured. 

"No. I offer my love only that it may serve you without reward. Do youneed in your trouble a man's arm, a man's heart and mind?"

"I need nothing;" but her voice was now strangely sweet. So, she wasloved by one who asked for nothing? This was not like the men she hadknown. "Do not misjudge me, Mr. Hillard. If indeed you believe that youlove me--incredible as it seems to me--I am proud of the honor. Butfatality forbids that I accept not only your love but your friendship. "

"Not even my friendship?" bewildered. "And why not?"

"To answer that would only be adding to your hurt. "

"You are a strange woman. You make it very hard. "

"I have no alternative. The harder I make it, the better for your peaceof mind. Once you are angry with me, once you are convinced that I am ahopeless puzzle, this fancy you call love will evaporate. "

"Do not believe that. "

"I never intended that you should see me again, and yet, against mybetter judgment, I have bared my face to you upon a simple request. I amnot without some vanity. Men have called me beautiful. But, oh! it is asinister beauty; it has brought good to no one, least of all to itsowner. You met Mrs. Sandford in Naples. Tell me what she said. "

He sought refuge in silence. 

"Did she not earnestly warn you against me?"

"Yes, " reluctantly. 

"And yet you would not heed her warning?" sadly. 

"I have told you that I am mad. "

"I am coming to believe it. There are two of us. That dinner! And out ofan innocent prank comes this! Folly, always folly!" And as sheremembered the piece of folly she was about to start out upon, shelaughed. "Mad? Yes. Only, to your madness there is some reason; to mine, none. "

"So you sometimes recollect that night? You have not forgotten?"

"No. The pleasure I derived has frequently returned to my mind. "

"Ah, if only you would tell me what prevents friendship between us. "

"You say you love me; is that not answer enough? Love and friendship areas separate as the two poles; and you are man enough of the world toknow that. I have no wish to wreck your life nor to make mine moremiserable. Well, I will tell you this: there is a barrier between us--abarrier which only death can tear down or break asunder. Give up allidea, all thought of me. You will only waste your time. Come; is yourlove strong enough to offer a single sacrifice?"

"Not if it is to give you up. "

"Very well. I see, then, that I must submit to this added persecution. Ican not force you. "

"So long as I live I shall go on dreaming of you. So long as you keep mein darkness as to your trouble I shall pursue you. Oh, do not worryabout persecution. I shall only seek to be near you. "

"Good night, " she said, "and good-by!" She wound the veil round herface, took half a dozen steps, halted and turned, then went on, beyondthe light, into the dark. 

How long Hillard stood by the steps of the church, watching that part ofthe darkness through which she had disappeared, he never knew. Merrihewtapped him on the arm. 

"Wake up, Jack, my boy!" said Merrihew lightly. "I thought, by the wayyou mooned here, that you had fallen asleep on your feet. Where'sKitty?"

"Kitty? I forgot to ask, Dan, " said Hillard dully. 

CHAPTER XIX

TWO GENTLEMEN FROM VERONA

It was May in the Tuscany Hills; blue distances; a rolling horizon; asky rimmed like a broken cup; a shallow, winding river, gleamingfitfully in the sun; a compact city in a valley, a city of red-tiledroofs, of domes and towers and palaces, of ruined ivy-grown walls andbattlements; shades of Michelangelo and Dante and Machiavelli, theBorgias and the Medicis: Florence, the city of flowers. 

Upon a hill, perhaps three miles to the northeast of the city, stood theancient Etruscan town of Fiesole. The flat white road which passesthrough the heart of the village leads into the mountains beyond. Hereone sees an occasional villa, surrounded by high walls of stone, plastered in white or pink, half hidden in roses, great, bloomy, sweet-scented roses, which of their quality and abundance rule thekingdom of flowers, as Florence once ruled the kingdom of art andlearning. 

The Villa Ariadne rested upon a small knoll half a mile or more north ofand above Fiesole, from which the panoramic beauty of Florence was to beseen at all times, glistening in the sun, glowing in the rain, sparklingin the night. A terrace reached to the very frontal walls, which weretwelve feet above the road. On the other side of the road swept downabruptly a precipitous ravine, dangerous to careless riders. A smallstream dashed north, twisted, and joined the Mugnone, which in turnemptied into the drab waters of the Arno. 

The villa was white and cool in the shade of dark cypresses and beechesand pink-blossomed horse-chestnuts. There were beds and gardens offlowers, and behind the villa a forest spread out and upward to the verytop of the overshadowing mountain. The gates and the porter's lodge wereat that end of the confines nearest Fiesole. The old gardener and hiswife lived in the lodge, earning an extra lira now and then by escortingtourists through the park and exhibiting the Della Robias, the Hadrianmosaic, the fountain by Donatello, and some antique marbles, supposed tohave been restored by Michelangelo. He never permitted any one to touchthese glories. Periodically the agents of the government paid a visit toascertain that none of these treasures had been sold or removed. The oldgardener spoke some English. 

Life ran smoothly enough at the Villa Ariadne. La Signorina, at the verylast moment, surrendered to the entreaties of Kitty. She agreed not topass herself off as the princess. So they occupied the villa pleasurablyand in safety. The police, as prescribed by law, made two visits and hadgone away satisfied that, however odd they might be, the temporarytenants were proper persons. Among themselves each played the roleoriginally assigned. It was innocent fun now, and La Signorina seemed toenjoy the farce as much as any one. It was a great temptation not toprowl round the forbidden rooms, not to steal a look into the marvelouschests and sideboards, bulging as they knew with priceless glass andsilver and linen and laces. But La Signorina each day inspected theseals and uttered solemn warnings. 

There was only one in this strange medley of persons who was notcontented with his lot, who cared not if the letter from home never cameat all, and this person was Worth. To set down the trouble briefly, hewas desperately in love with La Signorina; and the knowledge of howhopeless this passion was, together with the frequent efforts he had putforth to repress the ardent declaration, were making him taciturn andsolitary. La Signorina never went down to Florence, not even to Fiesole;so Worth never joined his companions when they took, pleasant excursionsinto the city. 

As one fences in the dark, instinctively, so she kept him a foil'slength away. Yet she would have been glad had he spoken; she could havesilenced him effectually then. It was rather nerve-racking to wait forthis unwelcome declaration day by day. They had now lived in the VillaAriadne for two weeks, a careless, thoughtless, happy-go-lucky family. The gossip might have looked askance at them; but La Signorina would nothave cared and the others would not have thought. 

Every afternoon at two o'clock O'Mally and the ancient gardener wouldget together and give each other lessons, the one in English and theother in Italian. When this was done, a small flask of Chianti wasforthcoming, and the old man enjoyed himself as he hadn't done since hisyouth: a pipe of good tobacco and two glasses of Chianti. It was enoughfor any reasonable man. He never inquired where the wine came from;sufficient it was to him that it came at all. And O'Mally saw no reasonfor discovering its source; in fact, he admired Pietro's reticence. For, like Planchet in the immortal _Three Musketeers_, O'Mally had done someneat fishing through one of the cellar windows. Through the broken paneof glass he could see bin upon bin of dust-covered bottles, Burgundy, claret, Sauterne, champagne, and no end of cordials, prime vintagesevery one of them. And here they were, useless to any one, turning intojelly from old age. It was sad. It was more than that--it was a blessedshame. All these bottles were, unfortunately, on the far side of thecellar, out of reach, and he dared not break another window. Under thiswhich served him lay the bin of Chianti. This was better than nothing;and the princess would never miss the few bottles he purloined. Sometimes he shared a bottle with Smith, who was equally incurious. 

To-day was warm and mellow. On the stone bench by the porter's lodge, hard by the gate, sat the old Florentine and O'Mally. From some unknownsource O'Mally had produced a concierge's hat and coat, a littlemoth-eaten, a little tarnished, but serviceable. Both were smokingred-clay pipes with long bamboo stems. 

"Pietro, " said O'Mally, teetering, "have you ever waited for money fromhome?"

Pietro puffed studiously, separating each word with all the care of anaturalist opening the wings of some new butterfly. He made a negativesign. 

"Well, don't you ever wait. There's nothing to it. But I've got anidea. "

Pietro expressed some surprise. 

"Yes, and a good idea, too. If any tourists come to-day, I propose toshow them round the place. " O'Mally was quite in earnest. 

Pietro's eyes flashed angrily. "No, no! Mine, all mine!"

"Oh, I'm not going to rob you. I'll give you the tips, _amico_. What Iwant is the fun of the thing. _Comprendery?_"

Pietro understood; that was different. If his Excellency would pay overto him the receipts, he could conduct the tourists as often as hepleased. Yes. To him it was tiresome. Most people were fools. 

"Let's begin the lesson, then. "

"_Come sta?_" said Pietro, shifting his pipe. 

"That's howdy do, " said O'Mally. "How is your wife?"

"That ees _Come sta vostra_!"

Pause. 

"_Che tempo fa?_" said Pietro suddenly. 

O'Mally frowned and jammed down the coal in his pipe. "Who--no, how!--isthe weather. Who can say? _Che lo sa?_"

"_Bene!_"

Solemnly they went over the same ground. To be sure, O'Mally alwaysfailed to get the right twist to the final vowels, but he could makehimself understood, and that was the main thing. It was a rare moment tohim at night to strike Smith dumb by asking in Italian for a match, acigar, or a book. Smith wondered how he did it; but when asked to jointhe primary class at the porter's lodge, he always excused himself bysaying that he was deep in the writing of a comedy, which was true. Ifthere was a play in one's system, the Villa Ariadne was sure to bring itout. 

Having finished the lesson for that day, they shared the flask of wine. 

"It is old, Pietro, " said O'Mally. 

"_Vecchio, anticato_, " responded Pietro with grave satisfaction. 

"Hold on, now; this is no lesson. You talk English. Now about this guidebusiness. You will let me be guide if I turn over the profits; that isagreed?"

"Yes. " Pietro wished the flask had been twice as large. 

"All right; that's fixed. By the way, Pietro, did you ever see theprincess?"

Pietro looked into the bowl of his pipe. "No; she not come here; never. "

"Hum! I should, if I owned a place like this. "

"Trouble. "

"Trouble? How?"

"I not know. But trouble she come bime-by. "

"Rats!" There was not a cloud in the sky, so far as O'Mally could see. And what trouble could possibly befall them?

"Sh!" said Pietro. 

The porter's bell rang loudly. 

"Tourists!" whispered O'Mally, sliding off the bench and buttoning uphis coat. "Remember I am the guide; you get the lire. "

Surely Pietro understood, but he was nervous, doubting the ability ofthis novice to demand the right sum for his labor. 

O'Mally settled his cap on straight and went to the gates and openedthem. A party of five Americans stood outside--two men, two women, and agirl of twelve or fourteen. The whole party wore that eager look, nowfamiliar to O'Mally, of persons who intended to see everything if theyeventually died for it. 

"This is the Villa Ariadne?" asked one of the women. She wore eyeglassesand had a bitter expression. 

"It is, " said O'Mally, touching his cap. 

"He speaks English!" cried the woman, turning joyfully to the others. "We wish to see the villa and the park. "

"The villa is now occupied, signora, " replied O'Mally; "but you arepermitted to see the park and gardens. "

"How much?" asked one of the men. 

"_Cinquanty_, " said O'Mally; then correcting himself, "for each person. "

"Ten cents? Two lire fifty? Why, this is downright extortion!" declaredthe woman with the eyeglasses. She was vehement, too. 

O'Mally gave vent to a perfect Italian shrug, and put a hand outsuggestively toward the gates. 

"Oh, come, dear, " protested one of the men wearily; "you've dragged usup here from Fiesole and I'm not going back without seeing what's to beseen. "

"That's like you men; always willing to be robbed rather than stand uponyour rights. But I vow that you weak men will ruin travel by giving inall the time. "

The man at whom this brief jeremiad was hurled painfully counted out twolire fifty, which was immediately transferred to the palm of the guide, who ushered the wayfarers in. 

Solemnly Pietro watched them pass, wondering what the terms were. O'Mally led the party to the fountain. 

"What's this?" asked the woman. 

"This, " O'Mally began, with a careless wave of the hand, "is the famedfountain by Donatello. It was originally owned by Catherine d'Medissy. The Borgias stole it from her, and Italy and France nearly came to warover it. "

"The Borgias?" doubtfully. "Were these two families contemporaneous?"

"They were, " scornfully. "These Borgias were not the head of the family, however. Finally it fell into the hands of the first Prince d' MontyBianchy, and it has stood where you see it for three hundred years. Itis considered the finest specimen of its kind. The Italian governmenthas offered fabulous sums for it. "

"I thought the government could force the sale of these things?"

"There has been some litigation over this property, consequently thegovernment can do nothing till the courts have settled the matter, "recited O'Mally glibly. 

"Oh. "

The quintet consulted their guide-books, but before they had located theparagraph referring to this work, O'Mally was cunningly leading them onto the Della Robbias which hung in the ruined pavilion. With a grand yetfamiliar air he declaimed over the marvelous beauties of this peculiarclay with an eloquence which was little short of masterful. He passed onto the antique marbles, touching them lightly and explaining how thisone was Nero's, that one Caligula's, that one Tiberius'. He lied soeasily and gracefully that, wherever it rested, the tomb of Ananias musthave rocked. And whenever his victims tried to compare his statementswith those in the guide-books, he was extolling some other treasure. They finally put the guide-books under their arms and trusted in thekindness of Providence. 

"Do you know, " said the woman who had not yet spoken, "you speak Englishremarkably well? There is an accent I do not quite understand. "

O'Mally shivered for a moment. Was she going to spring Dago on him? "Iam Italian, " he said easily. "I was born, however, in County Clare. Myfather and mother were immigrants to Ireland. " His face was as solemn asan owl's. 

"That explains it. "

O'Mally took a new lease of life. "Now let me show you the Hadrianmosaic, from the Villa Hadrian in Tivoli, out of Rome. " He swept backthe sand. "Is it not magnificent?"

"Looks like a linoleum pattern, " was the comment of one of the men. 

"You are not far from right, " said O'Mally. "It was from this verymosaic that the American linoleums were originally designed. "

"Indeed!" said the woman with the glasses. 

"Yes, Signora. "

"Ma, " whispered the girl, "ask him for one of those buttons. "

The stage-whisper was overheard by O'Mally. "These buttons, " heexplained, "cost a lira each; but if the signorina really wishesone--" And thus another lira swelled the profits of the day. O'Mallywondered if he ought not to keep this one lira since it was off his owncoat and not Pietro's. 

On the balcony of the villa appeared two women. The woman with theglasses at once discovered them. 

"Who is that handsome woman?" she demanded. 

O'Mally paled slightly. "That, " touching his cap respectfully, "is herHighness, La Principessy d' Monty Bianchy, the owner of the VillaAriadne. " Ha! He had them here. 

The tourists stared at the balcony. A real live princess! They no longerregretted the two lire fifty. This was something worth while. 

"We did not know that the princess lived here. "

"It is but a temporary visit. She is here incognito. You must not repeatwhat I have told you, " was O'Mally's added warning. 

On the balcony the two women were talking quietly. 

"What in the world is that man O'Mally up to now?" said La Signorinacuriously. 

"Can't you see?" replied Kitty. "He is acting as guide in Pietro'splace. "

"Merciful heavens!" La Signorina retired, stifling her laughter. 

At the gates O'Mally received his _pourboire_ of twenty centesimi, sawhis charge outside, closed and locked the gates, and returned to Pietro, who was in a greatly agitated state of mind. 

"_Quando!_" he cried. 

O'Mally handed him the exact amount, minus the lira for the button. 

"_Santa Maria!_ All thees? How? No more I take dem; you!"

O'Mally sat down on the bench and laughed. It was as good a part as hehad ever had. 

 * * * * *

Early evening. La Signorina leaned over the terrace wall, her hand idlytrailing over the soft cool roses. Afar down the valley shimmered thelights of Florence. There were no outlines; no towers, no domes, noroofs were visible; nothing but the dim haze upon which the lightsserenely floated. It might have been a harbor in the peace of night. Tothe south, crowning the hills with a faint halo, the moon, yet hidden, was rising across the heavens. Stretched out on either hand, white andshadowy, lay the great road. She was dreaming. Presently upon thesilence came the echo of galloping horses. She listened. The sound camefrom the north. It died away, only to return again sharply, and thistime without echo. Two horsemen came cantering toward the Villa Ariadne. They drew down to a walk, and she watched them carelessly. It was notlong before they passed under her. She heard their voices. 

"Jack, this has been the trip of my life. Verona, Padua, Bologna, andnow Florence! This is life; nothing like it. "

"I am glad, Dan. It has been enjoyable. I only hope our luggage will beat the hotel for us. Twelve days in riding-breeches are quite enough fora single stretch. "

La Signorina's hand closed convulsively over a rose, and crushed it. Thevine, as she did so, gave forth a rustling sound. The men turned andglanced up. They saw a woman dimly. That was all. 

"A last canter to Fiesole!"

"Off she goes!"

The two went clattering down the road. 

La Signorina released the imprisoned rose, and, unmindful of the prickof the thorn, walked slowly back to the villa. It was fatality that thisman should again cross her path. 

CHAPTER XX

KITTY DROPS A BANDBOX

"What's the matter, Jack? Whenever you smoke, your cigar goes out; youread a newspaper by staring over the top of it; you bump into people onthe streets, when there is plenty of room for you to pass; you leaveyour watch under the pillow and have to hike back for it; you forget, you are absent-minded. Now, what's the matter?"

"I don't know, Dan, " said Hillard, relighting his cigar. 

"Or you won't tell. "

"Perhaps that's more like it. "

"It's that woman, though you will not acknowledge it. By George, I'dlike to meet her face to face; I'd give her a piece of my mind. "

"Or a piece of your heart!"

"Bah!" cried Merrihew, flipping his cigar-ash to the walk below, careless whether it struck any of the leisurely-going pedestrians ornot. 

"You have not seen her face, Dan; I have. "

"Oh, she may be a queen and all that; but she has an evil influence overall the people she meets. Here's Kitty, following her round, and theLord knows in what kind of trouble. She has hooked you, and presentlyyou'll be leaving me to get back home the best way I can. "

"It is quite possible, my boy. " And Hillard did not smile. 

"Come, Jack, have you really got it? If you have, why, we'll pack up andleave by the next steamer. I don't care to wander about Italy with asick man on my hands. "

"Don't be hard on me, Dan, " pleaded Hillard, smiling now. "Think of allthe Kitty Killigrews you've poured into my uncomplaining ears!"

"I got over it each time. " But Merrihew felt a warmth in his cheeks. 

"Happy man! And, once you see the face of this adventuress, as you callher, Kitty Killigrew will pass with all the other lasses. "

"I?" indignantly. "Rot! She won't hold a candle to Kitty. "

"No, not a candle, but the most powerful light known to the humaneye--perfect beauty. " Hillard sighed unconsciously. 

"There you go again!" laughed Merrihew. "You tack that sigh toeverything you say; and that's what I've been complaining about. "

Hillard was human; he might be deeply in love, but this had notdestroyed his healthy sense of humor. So he laughed at himself. 

Then they mused silently for a while. On either side, from theirwindow-balcony, the lights of Lungarno spread out in a brillianthalf-circle, repeating themselves, after the fashion of women, in themirror of the Arno. On the hill across the river the statue of David wasvisible above the Piazza Michelangelo. 

"You never told me what she was like, " said Merrihew finally. 

"Haven't I? Perhaps you never asked. We went through the Pitti Palaceto-day. I couldn't drag you from Raphael's _Madonna of the Chair_. Sheis as beautiful as that. "

"Imagination is a wonderful thing, " was Merrihew's solitary comment. 

"Mine has not been unduly worked in this instance, " Hillard declaredwith emphasis. "Beauty in women has always been to me something in theabstract, but it is so no longer. There is one thing which I wish toimpress upon you, Dan. She is not an adventuress. She has made no effortto trap me. On the contrary, she has done all she could to keep out ofmy way. "

"It's a curious business; the dinner, the mask, the veil, the mystery. Itell you frankly, Jack, something's wrong, and we shall both live tofind it out. "

"But what? Heaven on earth, what? Haven't I tried to figure it out tillmy brain aches? I haven't gone forward a single inch. On the steps ofthe Formosa I told her that I loved her. There, you have it! I was indoubt till I looked at her face, and then I knew that I had met the onewoman, and that there was a barrier between us that was notself-imposed. Not even friendship, Dan; not even an ordinary thing likethat. I have spoken to this woman on only two occasions, and only oncehave I seen her face. I am not a disciple of the theory of love at firstsight. I never shall be. An educated, rational man must have somethingbesides physical beauty; there must be wit, intellect, accomplishments. Usually we recognize the beauty first, and then the other attributes, one by one, as the acquaintance ripens. With me the things have beenswitched round. The accomplishments came first; I became fascinated by avoice and a mind. But when I saw her face. . . . Oh, well! Mrs. Sandfordwarned me against her; the woman herself has warned me; the primalinstinct of self-preservation has warned me; yet, here I am! I had notintended to bother you, Dan. "

"It doesn't bother me, it worries me. If I have hurt you with any of mycareless jests, forgive me. " Merrihew now realized that his friend wasin a bad way. Still, there was a hidden gladness in his heart thatHillard, always railing at his (Merrihew's) affairs, was in the sameboat now, and rudderless at that. 

"You haven't hurt me, Dan. As a matter of fact, your gibes have been atonic. They have made me face the fact that I was on the highroad toimbecility. "

"What shall you do?"

"Nothing. When we have seen Florence we'll drop down to Perugia andRome, then up to the Italian lakes; after that, home, if you say. Thebass season will be on then, and we've had some good sport on LakeOntario. "

"Bass!" Merrihew went through the pleasant foolery of casting a line, ofdrawing the bait, of lifting the hook, and of reeling in. "Four pounds, Jack. He fit hard, as old Joe used to say. Remember?"

And so naturally they fell to recounting the splendid catches of thegamiest fish in water. When the interest in this waned, Hillard lookedat his watch. 

"Only nine, " he said. "Let's go over to Gambrinus' and hear the music. "

"And drink a boot of beer. Better than moping here. "

The Hotel Italie was but a few blocks from the Piazza Vittorio Emanuele. They found the _Halle_ crowded, noisy and interesting. The music wasgood, as it always is in Italy, and the beer had the true German flavor, Münchener. Handsome uniforms brightened the scene; and there wasflirting and laughter, in which Merrihew found opportunity to join. 

"If Kitty should see you!"

"Well, what if she did? When I'm married to her it will be mutuallyunderstood that so long as I do not speak to them I may look at prettywomen. "

"You seem very sure of marrying her. "

"It's only a matter of time. The man who hangs on wins finally. "Merrihew had lost none of his confidence. 

"I see; they marry you to get rid of you, " said Hillard. "Yes, the manwho hangs on finally wins, in love or war or fortune. But I haven'tanything to hang on to. "

"Who knows?" said Merrihew, wagging his head. 

From the _Halle_ they went down-stairs to the billiard-room. The pocketsin the table bothered Merrihew; he did not care particularly for theEnglish game; and the American table was occupied by a quartet of youngAmericans who were drinking champagne like Pittsburg millionaires. Theventilation was so bad that the two friends were forced to give up thegame. Under the arcade they found a small table. It was cool anddelightful here, and there was a second boot of Munich beer. 

Officers passed to and fro, in pairs or with women. Presently twoofficers, one in the resplendent uniform of a colonel, went past. Merrihew touched Hillard with his foot excitedly. Hillard nodded, buthis pulse was tuned to a quicker stroke. 

"I hope he doesn't see us, " he said, tipping his panama over his eyes. 

Merrihew curled the ends of his juvenile mustache and scowled fiercely. 

"This is his post evidently, " he said. "What a smacking uniform! He musthave had a long furlough, to be wandering over Europe and America. If Iget a chance I'm going to ask a waiter who he is. "

"So long as he doesn't observe us, " said Hillard, "I have no interest inhis affairs. " Had he none? he wondered. "A lady? Grace of Mary, that isdroll!" The muscles in his jaws hardened. 

"But you twisted his cuffs for him that night in Monte Carlo. MonteCarlo!" reminiscently. "Eighteen hundred dollars, my boy, and a goodfourteen still in my inside pocket. Wasn't I lucky? But I'll neverforgive Kitty for running away from us. That's got to be explained fullysome day. "

"He is coming this way again, Dan, " Hillard observed quietly. 

"Ah!"

They waited. Hillard changed his mind; he pushed back his hat and heldup his chin. If the man with the scar saw him and spoke he would reply. The colonel, glancing at the pair casually, halted. At first he was notcertain, but as he met the steady eyes of Hillard he no longer doubted. It was true. He turned and spoke to his brother officer. Merrihew'sthroat grew full, but not from fear. The man with the scar stepped overto the table and leaned with his hands upon it. There was a savage humorin his dark eyes. 

"Did I not tell you that we should meet again?" he said to Hillard. "This is a pleasant moment. " He stood back again. 

"Are you speaking to me?" asked Hillard, not the least perturbed. He hadnot stirred in his chair, though every muscle in his body was alert andready at a moment's call. 

"Certainly I am speaking to you. You understand Italian sufficientlywell. This is the fellow, " speaking to his companion, at the same timedrawing off his gloves, "this is the fellow I spoke to you about. "

"I object to the word fellow, " said Hillard, smiling grimly. "Besides, Ido not know you. "

"Ah, discreet!" sneered the man with the scar. 

"Be careful, Enrico, " warned the brother officer. "There are many about, and a scene is not wise. Ask the American to take a walk. You couldarrange with more ease. "

"Thank you, " said Hillard, "but I am perfectly comfortable where I am. If this gentleman has anything to say, he must say it here and now. "

"Colonel!" cried the subaltern, as his senior smoothed the gloves andplaced them carefully in his left hand, closing his fingers over them. 

"Oh, I am calm. But I have been dreaming of this moment. Now!" Thecolonel readdressed Hillard. "You meddled with an affair that night inwhich you had no concern, " he began truculently. 

"Are you quite sure?"

Merrihew eyed Hillard nervously. He did not understand the words, worseluck, but the tone conveyed volumes. It was crisp and angry. Hillardpossessed a temper which was backed by considerable strength, and onlyon rare occasions did this temper slip from his control. Thoroughlyangry, Hillard was not a happy man to antagonize. 

"Yes, I am sure. And yet, as I think it over, as I recollect thewoman, " went on the colonel, with a smile which was evil andinsinuating. . . . "Well, I shall not question you. The main thing is, youannoyed me. In Monte Carlo I was practically alone. Here the scene isdifferent; it is Florence. Doubtless you will understand. " He struck outwith the gloves. 

But they never touched Hillard's face. His hand, expectant of this verymovement, caught the assailant's wrist, and, with a quick jerk, broughthim half-way across the table. He bore down on the wrist so fiercelythat the Italian cried faintly. Hillard, with his face but a span fromthe other's, spoke tensely, but in an undertone. 

"Listen carefully to what I have to say, signore. I understandperfectly, but I shall fight no duel. It is an obsolete fashion, andproves nothing but mechanical skill. I do not know what kind ofblackguard you are, but blackguard I know you to be. If you ever addressme again I promise on the word of a gentleman to give you a whippingwhich will have a more lasting effect upon your future actions than adozen sermons. If that will not serve, I shall appeal to the police. "

"Poltroon!"

"As often as you please!" Hillard flung him off roughly. 

A small but interested crowd had gathered by now, and Merrihew sawvisions of Italian jails. Through the crowd the ever-present_carabinieri_ shouldered their way. 

"It is nothing, " said the colonel, motioning them to stand back, whichthey did with a sign of respect. This sign gave Hillard some food forthought. His antagonist was evidently a personage of some importance. 

"Figure of an American pig!"

Hillard laughed. "I might have broken your wrist, but did not. You arenot grateful. "

The _carabinieri_ moved forward again. 

"The affair is over, " said Hillard amiably. "This officer has mistakenme for some one he knows. "

The scar was livid on the Italian's cheek. He stood undecided for aspace. His companion laid a restraining hand on his arm. He nodded, andthe two made off. What might in former days have been a tragedy wasnothing more than a farce. But it spoiled the night for Merrihew, and hewas for going back to the hotel. Hillard agreed. 

"At first I wanted you to give him a good stiff punch, " said Merrihew, "but I am glad you didn't. "

"We should have slept in the lockup over night if I had. The_carabinieri_ would not have understood my excuses. If our friend isleft-handed, he'll be inconvenienced for a day or two. I put some forceinto that grip. You see, Dan, the Italian still fights his duels. Dueling is not extinct in the army here. An officer who refuses toaccept a challenge for a good or bad cause is practically hounded out ofthe service. It would have been a fine joke if I had been fool enough toaccept his challenge. He would have put daylight through me at the firststroke. "

"I don't know about that, " replied Merrihew loyally. "You are the crackfencer in New York. "

"But New York isn't Florence, my boy. I'll show you some fencingto-morrow. If my old fencing master, Foresti Paoli, is yet in Florence, I'll have him arrange some matches. New York affairs will look tame toyou then. "

"But what has he to do with your vanishing lady?"

"I should like to know. "

"I wish I had thought to ask a waiter who the duffer is. Did you noticehow respectful the _carabinieri_ were?"

"It set me thinking. Oh, I've a premonition that we haven't seen thelast of this distinguished gentleman. Perhaps we'll find out who he issooner than we care to. "

"When the time comes, " said Merrihew with a laugh, "be sure you soak itto him, and an extra one for me. "

Early on the morrow they rode out to the Cascine, formerly a dairy-farm, but now a splendid park. The bridle-paths are the finest in the world, not excepting those in the Bois de Bologne in Paris. They are not solong, perhaps, but they are infinitely more beautiful. Take, forinstance, the long path under a tunnel of enormous trees, a bridle-pathwhere ten men may ride abreast with room to spare, and nearly half amile in length; there is nothing like it. 

"I tell you what it is, Jack; Italy may put a tax on salt and sea-water, but always gives something in return; she puts up a picture-gallery or amuseum, or a park like this. What do we get back in America? _Niente!_"

For two hours they romped through the park, running races, hurdling, andplaying rough pranks upon each other, such as only expert riders dareattempt. They were both hardened by the long ride down to Florence, apair of animals as healthy as their mounts. They had determined not tosell the horses till the last moment. A riding-master in the Via Lorenzoii Magnifico agreed to board them against the time of sale. 

In the three days in Florence they had been through the galleries andthe museums; and Merrihew, to his great delight, began to find that hecould tell a Botticelli from a Lippi at first glance. He was beginningto understand why people raved over this style or that. There wassomething so gentle, so peaceful in a Botticelli that he reallypreferred it to some of the famed colorists, always excepting Veronese, to whom he had given his first admiration. 

For luncheon this day Hillard took him to Paoli's in the Via deiTavolini--the way of the little tables. Here Merrihew saw a tavern suchas he had often conjured up while reading his Dumas; sausages and hamsand bacons and garlic and cheeses and dried vegetables hanging from theceiling, abrupt passages, rough tables and common chairs and strangedishes; oil, oil, oil, even on the top of his coffee-cup, and magnums ofred and white Chianti. Hillard informed him that this was the mostfamous Bohemian place in the city, the rendezvous of artists, sculptors, writers, physicians, and civil authorities. The military seldompatronized it, because it was not showy enough. Merrihew enjoyed thescene, with its jabber-jabber and its clatter-clatter. And he was stillhungry when he left, but he would not admit it to Hillard, who adaptedhimself to the over-abundance of oil with all the zest of an expatriatedTuscan. 

At three o'clock they went to the fencing academy of Foresti Paoli, nearthe post-office. Foresti was a fine example of the military Italian offormer days. He was past sixty, but was as agile as any of hiscelebrated pupils. As Hillard had written him the night before, he wasexpected. He had been a pupil of Foresti's, and the veteran was glad tosee him. Merrihew saw some interesting bouts, and at length Forestiprevailed upon Hillard to don the mask against an old pupil, a physicianwho had formerly been amateur champion of Italy. Hillard, having been inthe saddle and the open air for two weeks, was in prime condition; andhe gave the ex-champion a pretty handful. But constant practice told inthe end, and Hillard was beaten. It was fine sport to Merrihew; thequick pad-pad of the feet on the mat, the short triumphant cries as thefoil bent almost double, and the flash of the whites of their eyesbehind the mask. Merrihew knew that he should love Florence all the restof his days. 

They were entering the Via Tornabuoni, toward the Havana cigar-store, when a young woman came out of the little millinery shop a few doorsfrom the tobacconist's. Immediately Hillard stepped to one side of herand Merrihew to the other. 

"You can not run away this time, Kitty Killigrew!" cried Merrihewjoyously. 

Kitty closed her eyes for a second, and the neat little bandbox slippedto the sidewalk. 

CHAPTER XXI

AN INVITATION TO A BALL

In the Villa Ariadne the wonderful fountain by Donatello was encircledby a deep basin in which many generations of goldfish swam about. Onlythe old gardener knew the secret of how these fish lived through thechill Florentine winters. Yet, every spring, about the time when thetourists began to prowl round, the little goldfish were to be seenagain, ready for bread-crumbs and bugs of suicidal tendencies. Forming akind of triangle about the basin were three ancient marble benches, suchas the amiable old Roman senators were wont to lounge upon during theheat of the afternoon, or such as Catullus reclined upon while readinghis latest lyric to his latest affinity. At any rate, they were veryold, earth-stained and time-stained and full of unutterable history, andwith the eternal cold touch of stone which never wholly warms even underwarmest sun. The kind of bench which Alma-Tadema usually fills withdiaphanous maidens. 

At this particular time a maiden, not at all diaphanous, but mentallyand physically material, sat on one of these benches, her arms thrownout on either side of the crumbling back, her chin lowered, and her eyesthoughtfully directed toward the little circle of disturbed water wherethe goldfish were urging for the next crumb. Now, as Phoebus wassomewhere near four in the afternoon, he was growing ruddy with effortin the final spurt for the western horizon. So the marbles and thefountain and the water and the maiden all melted into a harmoniousgolden tone. 

Merrihew was not so poetical as to permit this picture to go onindefinitely; so he stole up from behind with all the care of apractised hunter till he stood directly behind the maiden. She stilldreamed. Then he put his hands over her eyes. She struggled for a briefmoment, then desisted. 

"It is no puzzle at all, " she declared. "I can smell horse, horse, andagain horse. Mr. Merrihew--"

"Yes, I know all about it. I should have fetched along a sachet-powder. I never remember anything but one thing, Kitty, and that's you. " He cameround and sat down beside her. "There's no doubt that I reek of theanimal. But the real question is, " bluntly, "how much longer are yougoing to keep me dangling on the string? I've been coming up here forten days, now, every afternoon. "

"Ten days, " Kitty murmured. She was more than pretty to-day, and therewas malice aforethought in all the little ribbons and trinkets andfurbelows. She had dressed expressly for this moment, but Merrihew wasnot going to be told so. "Ten days, " she repeated; and mentally sherecounted the pleasant little journeys into the hills and thecherry-pickings. 

"And dangling, dangling. I've been hanging in mid-air for nearly a yearnow. When are you going to put me out of my misery?" His tone waschiding and moody. 

"But am I to be blamed if, after having refused twice to marry you, youstill persist?" Kitty assumed a judicial air. 

"All you have to do, " sadly, "is to tell me to clear out. "

"That's just it, " cried Kitty wrathfully. "If I tell you to go it willbe for good; and I don't want you to go that way. I like you; you arecheerful and amusing, and I find pleasure in your company. But every dayin the year, breakfast and dinner!" She appealed to the god in thefountain. What unreasonable beings men were!

"But you haven't refused me this time. "

"Because I wish to make it as easy as possible for you. " Which of thetwo meanings she offered him was lost upon Merrihew; he saw but one, northe covert glance, roguish and mischievous withal. "Come, let us besensible for ten minutes. "

Merrihew laid his watch on the bench beside him. Kitty dimpled. 

"Don't you love it in Florence?" she asked. 

"Oh, yes, " scraping the gravel with his crop. "Hillard says I'mfinishing my bally education at a canter. I can tell a saint from agentleman in a night-gown, a halo from a barrel-hoop, and I can drinkChianti without making a face. "

Kitty laughed rollickingly. For beneath her furbelows and ribbons andtrinkets she was inordinately happy and light of heart. Her letter hadcome; she was only waiting for the day of sailing; and she was to takeback with her the memory of the rarest adventure which ever befell aperson, always excepting those of the peripatetic sailor from Bagdad. 

"I want to go home, " said Merrihew, when her laughter died away in asoft mutter. 

"What! leave this beautiful world for the sordid one yonder?"

"Sordid it may be, but it's home. I can speak to and understand everyman I meet on the streets there; there are the theaters and the club andthe hunting and fishing and all that. Here it's nothing but pictures andconcierges and lying cabbies. If I could collect all my friends andplant 'em over here, why, I could stand it. But I'm lonesome. Did youever try to spread frozen butter on hot biscuits? Well, that's the way Ifeel. "

This metaphor brought tears of merriment to Kitty's eyes. She would havelaughed at anything this day. 

"Daniel, you are hopeless. "

"I admit it. "

"How beautiful the cypresses are in the sunshine!" she exclaimed, standing. 

He reached out and caught her hand, gently pulling her down to thebench. 

"The ten minutes are up, " he said. 

"Oh, I said let us be sensible for ten minutes, " she demurred. 

"I've been telling you the truth; that's sensible enough. Kitty, willyou marry me?"

"Could you take care of me?"

"I have these two hands. I'll work. "

"That would be terrible! Oh, if you were only rich!"

"You don't mean that, Kitty. "

"No, " relenting, "I don't. But you bother me. "

"All right. This will be the last time. Will you marry me? I will do alla man can to make you happy. I love you with all my heart. I know. You're afraid; you've an idea that I am fickle. But not this time, Kitty, not this time. Will you?"

"I can not give up the stage. " She knew very well that she could, butshe had an idea. 

"I don't ask even that. I'll travel with you and make myself useful. "

"You would soon tire of that. " But Kitty eyed him with a kindly look. He_was_ good to look at. Kitty was like the timid bather; she knew thatshe was going to take the plunge, but she must put one foot into thewater, withdraw it, shudder, and try it again. 

"Tire?" said Merrihew. "If I did I shouldn't let you know it. I'm ahomeless beggar, anyhow; I've always been living in boarding-houses andclubs and hotels; it won't matter so long as you are with me. "

Kitty threw a crust to the goldfish and watched them swirl about itgreedily. Merrihew had no eyes but for her. Impulsively he held out hishand. Kitty looked at it with thought; this would be the final plunge. Then, without further hesitance, indifferent to the future or the past, conscious only of the vast happiness of the present, Kitty laid her handin his. He would have drawn her into his arms had not they both seenO'Mally pushing through the box-hedge, followed by some belatedtourists. Merrihew swore softly and Kitty laughed. 

On the terrace the tea-table dazzled the eye with its spotless linen, its blue Canton, and its bundle of pink roses. Hillard extended his cupfor a second filling, vaguely wondering where Merrihew was. They hadthreshed continental politics, engineering, art and the relative crafts, precious stones, astronomy and the applied sciences, music, horses, andgeology, with long pauses in between. Both knew instinctively that thislearned discourse was but a makeshift, a circuitous route pastdanger-points. "Have you ever heard of telling fortunes in tea-grounds?"he asked. 

"Yes. It is a pleasant fallacy, and nothing ever comes true. " And LaSignorina vaguely wondered where Kitty was. She needed Kitty at thismoment, she who had never needed anybody. 

The tramp of feet beyond the wall diverted them for a space. A troop ofmarksmen from the range were returning cityward. They were dirty andtired, yet none seemed discontented with his lot. They passed in a hazeof dust. 

The man and woman resumed their chairs, and Hillard bent his head overthe cup and stared at the circling tea-grounds in the bottom. Themovement gave her the opportunity she desired: to look freely andwithout let at his shapely head. Day after day, serene and cloudlessFlorentine days, this same scene or its like had been enacted. It tookall her verbal skill to play this game safely; a hundred times she sawsomething in his eyes that warned her and armed her. When he passed thatevening on horseback she knew that these things were to be. She had twobattles where he had only one; for she had herself to war against. Eachnight after he had gone she fought with innocent desire; argument afterargument she offered in defense. But these were all useless; she mustsend him away. And yet, when he came, as she knew he would, she offeredhim tea! And in rebellion she asked, Why not? What harm, what evil? Wasit absolutely necessary that she should let all pleasure pass, thrust itaside? The suffering she had known, would not that be sufficient penancefor this little sin? But on his side, was this being fair to him? Thisman loved her, and she knew it. Up to this time he had met her buttwice, and yet he loved her, incredible as it seemed. And though henever spoke of this love with his lips, he was always speaking it withhis eyes; and she was always looking into his eyes. 

She never looked into her own heart; wisely she never gave rein toself-analysis; she dared not. And so she drifted on, as in some sunnydream of remote end. 

How inexplicable were the currents and cross-currents of life! She hadmet a thousand men, handsomer, more brilliant; they had not awakenedmore than normal interest. And yet this man, quiet, humorous, ordinarilygood-looking, aroused in her heart discord and penetrated the barriersto the guarded sentiment. Why? Always this query. Perhaps, after all, itwas simply the initial romance which made the impression so lasting. Ah, well; to-morrow or the next day the end would come; so it did notmatter. 

There was one bit of light in this labyrinth: Worth had spoken; thatdisagreeable incident was closed. And this present dream, upon what reefwould it carry her? She shrugged. This action brought Hillard back toearth, for he, too, had been dreaming. He raised his head. 

"Why did you do that?" he asked. 

"Do what?"

"Shrug. "

"Did I shrug? I did so unconsciously. Perhaps I was thinking of O'Mallyand his flock of tourists. "

"Doesn't it annoy you?"

"Not in the least. It has been a fine comedy. I believe he is the mostaccomplished prevaricator I ever met. He remembers the lie of yesterdayand keeps adding to it. I don't see how he manages to do it. He isbetter than Pietro. Pietro used to bring them into the house. " Shegathered up a handful of the roses and pressed them against her face, breathing deeply. 

Hillard trembled. She was so beautiful; the glow of the roses on hercheeks and throat, the sun in her hair, and the shadows in her eyes. Tosmother the rush of words which were gathering at his lips, he raisedhis cup and drank. Ten days! It was something. But the battle waswearing; the ceaseless struggle not to speak from his full heart wasweakening him. Yet he knew that to speak was to banish the dream, himself to be banished with it. 

"If I were a poet, which I am not--" He paused irresolutely. 

"You would extemporize on the beauty of the perspective, " shesupplemented. "How the Duomo shines! And the towers, and the Arno--"

"I was thinking of your hair, " he interrupted. "I have never seenanything quite like it. It isn't a wig, is it?" jestingly. 

"No, it is my own, " with an answering smile. 

"Ah, that night! It is true, as you said; it is impossible to forget thecharm of it. "

She had recourse to the roses again. Dangerous ground. 

"You have not told me the real reason why you sang under my window thatnight. "

"Have I not? Well, then, there can be no harm in telling you that. I hadjust signed the contract to sing with the American Comic Opera Companyin Europe. I saw the world at my feet, for it would be false modesty todeny that I have a voice. More disillusions! The world is _not_ at myfeet, " lightly. 

"But I am, " he replied quietly. 

She passed this declaration. "I might have more successfully applied tothe grand opera in New York; but my ambition was to sing here first. "

"But in comic opera?"

"Another blunder, common of its kind to me. Have I not told you that Iam always making missteps such as have no retracing?"

"Will you answer a single question?"

She stroked the roses. 

"Will you?"

"I can make no promise. Rather ask the question. If I see the wisdom ofanswering it, I shall do so. "

"Is there another man?" He did not look at her but rather at her fingersembedded in the roses. Silence, which grew and lengthened. 

"What do you mean?" she asked evenly, when she realized that the silencewas becoming too long. 

"In Venice you told me that there was a barrier. I ask now if thisbarrier be a man. "

"Yes. "

A wrinkle of pain passed over his heart. "If you love him--"

"Love him? No, no!. . . I had hoped you would not speak like this; Irelied upon your honor. "

"Is it dishonorable for me to love you?"

"No, but it is for me--to permit you to say so!"

He could hear the birds twittering in the boughs of the oak. A lizardpaused on the damp stone near-by. A bee hovered over the roses, twirleda leaf impatiently, and buzzed its flight over the old wall. He wasconscious of recognizing these sounds and these objects, but with theconsciousness of a man suddenly put down in an unknown country, in anunknown age, far away from all familiar things. 

"I deplore the misfortune which crossed your path and mine again, " shewent on relentlessly, as much to herself as to him. "But I am somethingof a fatalist. We can not avoid what is to be. "

He was pale, but not paler than she. 

"I offer you nothing, Mr. Hillard, nothing; no promise, no hope, nothing. A few days longer, and we shall separate finally. "

She was about to rise and ask him to excuse her and retire, whenMerrihew and Kitty came into view. There was nothing now to do but wait. She sought ease from the tenseness of the moment in sorting the roses. Hillard stirred the cold dregs in his tea-cup. Cold dregs, indeed! Thelight of the world was gone out. 

Merrihew's face was as broad and shining as the harvest moon. He cameswinging down the path, Kitty's arm locked in his. And Kitty's face wasrosy. Upon reaching the table Merrihew imitated the bow of an old-timecourtier. 

"It is all over, " he said, swallowing. "Kitty has promised to marry meas soon as we land in America. I'm a lucky beggar!"

"Yes, you are, " said Hillard. "Congratulations to both of you. "

La Signorina took hold of Kitty's hands. This was a much-neededdiversion. 

"Is it true, Kitty?"

"Yes, ma'am, " Kitty answered, with a stage courtesy. "I have promised tomarry him, for there seemed no other way of getting rid of him. "

Hillard forced a smile. "It's a shame to change such a pretty name asyours, Miss Killigrew. "

"I realize that, " replied Kitty with affected sadness. 

"Go to!" laughed the happy groom-elect. "Merrihew and Killigrew; there'snot enough difference to matter. And this very night I shall cable toAmerica. "

"Cable to America?" echoed a tri-chorus. 

"Yes; to have a parson in the custom-shed when we land. I know Kitty, and I am not going to take any chances. "

This caused real laughter. La Signorina relighted the tea-lamp, andpresently they were all talking together, jesting and offeringsuggestions. No matter how great the ache in the heart may be, there isalways some temporary surcease. Hillard was a man. 

They laughed quietly as they saw O'Mally gravely conducting his chargeto the gates. He returned with Smith. Both were solemn-visaged. 

"Well, noble concierge?" inquired La Signorina. "Why, you look as if youwere the bearer of ill-tidings. "

"Perhaps I am, " said O'Mally. He tossed his cap on the stones and satdown with Smith on the iron bench. "No, no tea, thank you. What I needis a glass, a whole glass, of good Irish whisky. This thing has been onmy mind since noon, but I concluded to wait rather than spoil the wholeday. I should have known nothing about it if it hadn't been for oldPietro. "

"What has happened?" asked Merrihew. 

"Enough, " said O'Mally laconically. He directed his next words to LaSignorina. "You are sure of this friend of yours, the princess?"

"Certainly, " answered La Signorina, her astonishment increasing. 

"She gave you the right authority?"

"Absolutely, " more and more astonished. 

"Agreed that we could remain here as long as we pleased?"

"Yes, yes!" impatiently. 

"Well, before I swing the thunder, let me tell you something, " saidO'Mally. "I was in Florence a few days ago. I made some inquiries. "

"About my friend the princess?"

"Yes. It was impertinent, I know. I interviewed four or five hotelconcierges. Only one of them ever heard of the name; and then it was anold prince, not a woman. This concierge directed me to another, but ashe spoke only Italian, we could not make things fit. But when Imentioned the princess' name, he shrugged and laughed, as if somethinghighly amusing had hit him. "

"Go on, Mr. O'Mally; go on. This is interesting. Your doubt is not atall complimentary to me. The police have recognized my authority. "

"And that's what feazes me. But the main thing is this: your princesshas played us all rather a shabby trick. In the letter you read to us inVenice she said that she had never visited this villa. "

"Only in her youth, " replied La Signorina, her brows drawing together ina frown. "But I know her so well; she is not in the habit of makingmisstatements. To the point at once. What has happened to bring aboutall this pother?"

"It is simply this: our little jig is up, " responded O'Mally. "Readthese and see for yourself. " He gave to her a broad white envelope and aclipping from _La Nazione_ of the day before. 

[Illustration: "Our little jig is up. Read these and see for yourself. "]

She seized the clipping eagerly, but the eagerness died from her facequickly, leaving it pale and stony. The clipping fluttered unheeded fromher fingers to the ground. Her gaze passed from one face to another, allthe while a horror growing in her eyes. Slowly she picked up theenvelope and drew out the card. Her eyes filled, but with tears of rageand despair. 

"Tell me, what is it?" cried Hillard, troubled, for his keen lover'seyes saw these changes. 

In answer she gave him the card. He read it. It _was_ rather a knock. Now, why should the Principessa di Monte Bianca take it into her head togive a ball in the Villa Ariadne, Wednesday week, when she had loanedthe villa indefinitely to her friend, La Signorina?

CHAPTER XXII

TANGLES

Hillard passed the card to Merrihew, who presented it to Kitty. Smithhad already seen it. He waved it aside moodily. La Signorina's eyesroved, as in an effort to find some way out. Afar she discovered Worth, his chin in his collar, his hands behind his back, his shouldersstudiously inclined, slowly pacing the graveled path which skirted theconservatory. From time to time he kicked a pebble, followed it andkicked it again, without purpose. Whether he saw them or not she couldnot tell. Presently he turned the corner and was gone from sight. Duringthe past few days he had lived by himself; and for all that she did notlike him, she was sorry for him. 

"It's a pretty kettle of fish, " said O'Mally, rather pleased secretly inhaving created so dramatic a moment. "She might have been kind enough, however, to notify us in advance of her intentions. I am still broke, "disheartened; "and the Lord knows what I'll do if I'm shunted back intothe hands of the tender hotel managers and porters. There is nothing forus to do but to clear out, bag and baggage. It's a blamed hard world. Iwish I had kept some of old Pietro's tips. " He spoke with fulldejection. Up to this time he had been playing the most enjoyable partin all his career, plenty to eat and to drink and no worry. And here theaffair was ended with the suddenness of a thunder-clap. 

"I'm even worse off than you are, Tom, " said Smith. "You've got adiamond. The sooner we light out the better. In a day or two theprincess will be piling in upon us with her trunks and lackeys andpoodles. "

"Poodles!" La Signorina was white with anger. 

"Why, yes, " said Smith innocently. "Nearly all Italian ladies carry oneor more of those woozy-eyed pups. Good-by to your sparkler, Tom, thistrip, if we ever expect to see the lights of old Broadway again. "

O'Mally sighed deeply. The blow had finally fallen. 

Then La Signorina rose to her feet. She took the card from Kitty'sfingers, tore it into many pieces and flung them over the wall. 

"We have been betrayed!" she cried, a storm in her eyes. 

"Betrayed?"

O'Mally looked at Smith; Hillard stared at Merrihew; Kitty regarded LaSignorina with wonder. 

"Betrayed? In what manner?" asked Hillard. 

"Her Highness has had no hand in this. I know. Some one with malice hasdone this petty thing. " To La Signorina everything had gone wrongto-day. "I shall telegraph her Highness at once. I say that we have beenmade the victims of some practical joke. "

"Joke or not, we can't stay here now, " Smith declared. "All the highmuckamucks in and roundabout Florence will be getting out their jewelsand gowns. If we send a denial to the paper, and we really have noauthority to do that, there'll be a whole raft of 'em who will not seeit. And since nobody knows how many invitations have been sent out or towhom they have been sent--oh, what's the use of all this arguing? Thething's done. No matter how we figure it, we're all railroaded. Third-class to Naples and twelve days in the steerage. Whew!"

"I guess Hillard and I can help you, " said Merrihew. "We'll see that youget home all right. "

"To be sure, " assented Hillard. Poor devils!

"We'll make good, once we strike Broadway, " replied O'Mally gratefully. 

La Signorina, her arms folded, her lips compressed into a thin line ofscarlet, the anger in her eyes unabated, began to walk back and forth, and there was something tigerish in the light step and the quick turn. The others, knowing her to be a woman of fertile invention, patientlyand in silence waited for her to speak. 

But the silence was broken unexpectedly by O'Mally. He gripped Smith bythe arm and pointed toward the path leading to the gates. 

"Look!" he whispered. 

All turned, and what they saw in nowise relieved the tenseness of thesituation. Two _carabinieri_ and an inspector of seals, dusty but sternof countenance, came up the path. O'Mally, recollecting the vast prisonat Naples, saw all sorts of dungeons, ankle-deep in sea-water, and ironbars, shackles and balls. Every one stood up and waited for this newdevelopment to unfold itself. La Signorina alone seemed indifferent tothis official cortège. The inspector signed to the _carabinieri_, whostopped. He came on. Without touching his cap--a bad sign--he laid uponthe tea-table a card and a newspaper, familiar now to them all. 

"Signora, " he said politely but coldly to the whilom prima donna, "willyou do me the honor to explain this? We have some doubts as to theauthority upon which this invitation was issued. " He spoke fluentEnglish, for the benefit of all concerned. 

Hillard waited for her answer, dreading he knew not what. 

She spoke evenly, almost insolently. "The invitation is perfectlyregular. "

Everybody experienced a chill. 

This time the inspector bowed. "Then her Highness will occupy hervilla?"

"She is already in possession. I am the Principessa di Monte Bianca, "calmly. 

Had an earthquake shattered the surrounding hills, and gulfs opened attheir feet, it could not have spread terror more quickly among thetransient guests at the Villa Ariadne than this declaration. They wereappalled; they stood like images, without the power to take their eyesoff this woman. This transcendental folly simply paralyzed them. Theyknew that she was not the princess; and here, calmly and negligently, she was jeoparding their liberty as well as her own. Mad, mad! Forimposture of this caliber was a crime, punishable by long imprisonment;and Italy always contrived to rake in a dozen or so accomplices. Theywere all lost indeed, unless they could escape and leave La Signorinaalone to bear the brunt of her folly. 

The keen-eyed inspector took mental note of these variant expressions. 

"Your Highness, " he said, his cap setting the dust on the stones flying, "a thousand pardons for this disagreeable intrusion. It was notofficially known that your Highness was here. "

"It is nothing, " replied the pseudo princess. "Only I desired to remainincognito for the present. "

"And the seals?" purred the official. 

"We shall go through that formality the morning after the ball. Atpresent I do not wish to be disturbed with the turning of the villaupside down, as would be the case were the seals removed. "

"That will require the permission of the crown, your Highness. "

"Then you will set about at once to secure this permission. "

The air with which she delivered this command was noble enough for anyone. The inspector was overcome. "But as your Highness has never beforeoccupied the villa, some definite assurance--"

"You will telegraph to Cranford and Baring, in the Corso Umberto Primo, Rome. They will supply you with the necessary details and information. "

The inspector inscribed the address in his notebook, bowed, backed awayand bowed again. The crunch of the gravel under his feet was as asinister thunder, and it was the only sound. He spoke to the_carabinieri_. They saluted, and the trio marched toward the gates. 

There remained a tableau, picturesque but tense. Then Kitty began to crysoftly. 

"Are you mad?" cried Hillard, his voice harsh and dry. 

La Signorina laughed recklessly. "If you call this madness. "

"Smith, my boy, " said O'Mally, moistening his lips, "you and I thisnight will pack up our little suit-cases and--_movimento, moto, viaggio_, or whatever the Dago word is for move on. I'm out of the game;the stakes are too high. I pass, signorina. "

"How could you do it?" sobbed Kitty. 

Merrihew patted her hand and scowled. 

"What an ado!" said La Signorina, shrugging. "So you all desert me?"

"Desert you?" O'Mally resumed his seat and carefully loosened thetopmost buttons of his coat. "Of course we shall desert you. We are saneindividuals, at any rate. I have no desire to see the inside of anItalian jail, not knowing how to get out. What under the sun possessedyou? What excuse have you to offer for pushing us all into the lion'smouth? You could have easily denied all knowledge of the invitation, referred them to your princess, wherever she may be, and we could havecleared out in the morning, poor but honest. And now you've gone anddone it!"

Hillard leaned against a cypress, staring at the stones. 

"In Venice, " said she, her voice gentle, "you accepted the chancereadily enough. What has changed you?"

O'Mally flushed. What she said was true. "I was a fool in Venice, "frankly. 

"And you, Mr. Smith?" continued La Signorina, as with a lash. 

But it was ineffectual. "I was a fool, too, " admitted Smith. "In Veniceit sounded like a good joke, but it looks different now. " He sat downbeside O'Mally. 

"So much for gallantry! And you, Kitty?"

"I made a promise, and I'll keep it. But I think you are cruel andwicked. "

"No nonsense, Kitty, " interposed Merrihew. "I've some rights now. Youwill have this villa to-night. "

"I refuse, " replied Kitty simply. 

Hillard slipped into the pause. 

"Did you issue those invitations yourself?" he asked this strange, incomprehensible woman. 

"Do you believe that?" La Signorina demanded, with narrowing eyes. 

"I don't know what to believe. But I repeat the question. "

"On my word of honor, I know no more about this mystery than you do. "And there was truth in her voice and eyes. 

"But are you not over-sure of your princess? Being a woman, may she nothave changed her plans?"

"Not without consulting me. I am not only sure, " she added with apositiveness which brooked no further question, "but to-morrow I shallprove to you that her Highness has not changed her plans. I shall sendher a telegram at once, and you shall see the reply. But you, Mr. Hillard, will you, too, desert me?"

"Oh, as for that, I am mad likewise, " he said, with a smile on his lipsbut none in his eyes. "I'll see the farce to the end, even if that endis jail. "

"If!" cried O'Mally. "You speak as though you had some doubt regardingthat possibility!"

"So I have. " Hillard went to the table, selected a rose, and drew itthrough the lapel of his coat. 

"I say, Jack!" Merrihew interposed, greatly perturbed. 

"And you will stay also, Dan. "

"Are you really in earnest?" dubiously. Why hadn't this impossible womansung under somebody else's window?

"Earnest as I possibly can be. Listen a moment. La Signorina is not aperson recklessly to endanger us. She has, apparently, put her head intothe lion's mouth. But perhaps this lion is particularly well trained. Iam sure that she knows many things of which we are all ignorant. Trusther to carry out this imposture which now seems so wild. Besides, totell the truth, I do not wish it said that I was outdone by MissKilligrew in courage and the spirit of adventure. "

"Oh, give me no credit for that, " broke in Kitty. 

La Signorina, however, rewarded Hillard with a look which set his pulseshumming. Into what folly would he not have gone at a sign from thislovely being? In his mind there was not the shadow of a doubt: thiscomedy would ultimately end at some magistrate's desk. So be it. 

Merrihew cast about helplessly, but none held out a hand. He must decidefor himself. 

"Do you mean it, Kitty?"

"Yes. "

O'Mally's face wore several new wrinkles; and both he and Smith werelooking at the green mold on the flag-stones as interestedly as if Chinawas but on the other side. Kitty saw nothing, not even the hills she wasstaring at. 

"Since you have made up your mind, Jack, " said Merrihew doggedly, "why, there's nothing for me to do but fall in. But it's kings againsttwo-spots. "

"Mental reservation?" said the temptress. "Mr. Hillard has none. "

"I am not quite certain I have none, " replied Hillard, renewing hisinterest in the rose. 

A moment later, when he looked up, her glance plunged into his, butfound nothing. Hillard could fence with the eyes as well as with thefoils. 

"Well, " she said, finding that Hillard's mental reservations were not tobe voiced, "here are three who will not desert me. "

"That's all very well, " rejoined O'Mally; "but it is different withthose two. Mr. Hillard's a millionaire, or near it, and he could buy hisway through all the jails in Italy. Smith here, Worth and Miss Killigrewand myself, we have nothing. More than that, we're jotted down in thepolice books, even to the mole on the side of my nose. There's no wayout for us. We are accomplices. "

"You will leave in the morning, then?" asked La Signorinacontemptuously. 

"I hope to. "

"Want of courage?"

"No. Against physical danger I am willing to offer myself at any time toyour Highness, " with a touch of bitter irony. "But to walk straight intojail, with my eyes open, that's a horse of a different color. "

"I like you none the less for your frankness, Mr. O'Mally. And Iapologize for doubting your courage. But if to-morrow I should produce atelegram from her Highness that would do away with all your doubts?"

"I'll answer that when I see the telegram. " O'Mally made an unsuccessfulattempt to roll a cigarette. This honeyed blarney, to his susceptibleIrish blood, was far more dangerous than any taunts; but he rememberedin time the fable of the fox and the crow. "We have all been togethernow for many weeks. Yet, who you are none of us knows. "

"I am the princess, " laughing. 

"Oh, yes; of course; I forgot. But I mean your real name. "

"My real name? Have you ever before asked me what it is?"

"Perhaps we have been a little afraid of you, " put in Smith. 

The shadow of a smile lay upon her lips and vanished. "My name is SoniaHilda Grosvenor. " And her voice was music. 

"Pardon me, " said O'Mally drolly, "but were any of yourancestors--er--troubled with insanity?"

This query provoked a laughter which gave them all a sense of relief. 

"My father had one attack of insanity, since you ask. " La Signorina'sface sobered. She stepped over to the wall, rested upon it, and searchedthe deepening eastern horizon. Yes, her father had been insane, and allher present wretchedness was due to this insanity of a rational mind. For a moment she forgot those about her, and her thought journeyedswiftly back to the old happy days. "Yes, there is a species of insanityin my veins. " She turned to them again. "But it is the insanity of asane person, the insanity of impulse and folly, of wilfulness and lackof foresight. As Mr. O'Mally said, I have gone and done it. Whatpossessed me to say that I am the princess is as inexplicable to me asto you, though you may not believe it. But for me there is nowithdrawing now; flight would do us no good. We, or I, I should say, have created a suspicion, and if we ran away we should be pursued fromone end of Italy to the other, till this suspicion was dissipated. Weshould become suspects, and in Italy a suspect is liable to immediatearrest. I am sorry that I have tangled you up in this. I release you allfrom any promise, " proudly. 

"If you talk like that--" began O'Mally. 

"Sh!" Smith elbowed him sharply in the small ribs. 

"It's all right, Smith. No one can force me into a scrape of this sort;but when she speaks like that! Signorina, or I should say, MissGrosvenor, you have the most beautiful voice in the world. Some day, andwe are all out of jail, I expect to hear you in the balcony scene withsome famous _tenore robusto_ as Romeo. You will be getting threethousand a week. You needn't bother about the telegram; but I'll have tohave a new suit, " touching the frayed cuffs of his coat. "Now, if we goto jail, how'll we get out?"

"Trust me!" La Signorina had recovered her gaiety. 

"Well, " said Smith, "suppose we go and break the news to Worth?"

 * * * * *

Hillard refused to canter, so the two walked their horses all the wayinto Florence. Merrihew spoke but seldom and Hillard not at all. By nowthe sun had gone down, and deep purple clouds swarmed across the blueface of heaven, forecasting a storm. . . . It was not dishonorable for himto love this woman, but it was not honorable for her to listen. SoniaHilda Grosvenor; that solved no corner of the puzzle. 

"To-morrow, " said Merrihew, "I'm going to look up the jail and engagerooms ahead. It might be crowded. "

Hillard raised his face and let a few drops of cooling rain patter onhis cheeks. "I love her, I love her!" he murmured. 

CHAPTER XXIII

THE DÉNOUEMENT

The morning sun poured over the hills, throwing huge shadows in thegorge below. The stream, swollen by the heavy rains of the past night, foamed and snarled along its ragged bed. The air was fresh and cool, andthe stately cypresses took on a deeper shade of green. Lizards scamperedover the damp stones about the porter's lodge or sought the patches ofgolden sunshine, and insects busied themselves with the daily harvest. O'Mally sniffed. As the wind veered intermittently there came to him theperfume of the locust trees, now in full bloom, the flowers of whichresembled miniature cascades hanging in mid-air. Pietro rocked, his legscrossed, his face blurred in the drifting tobacco smoke. 

"No more tourists, Pietro. "

"No. " Pietro sighed, a ruminating light in his faded eyes. 

"Did you ever see La Signorina before? Do you know anything about her?"

"Never! No!" answered Pietro, with the perfect candor of an accomplishedliar. 

"Have you ever seen her Highness?"

"When she so, " indicating a height about two feet from the ground. 

"You said that you had never seen her. "

"Meestake. "

"How old would she be?"

Pietro wrinkled his brow, "Oh, _quaranta, cinquanta_; fifty-forty. Whoknows?"

"Fifty! How old are you?" suspiciously. 

"_Settanta_; seventy. "

"Well, you look it. But why hasn't the princess ever been here, whenit's so beautiful?"

"Woman. "

"What woman?"

"La Principessa. Many villas, much money. "

O'Mally kicked at one of the lizards. "I thought she might be young. "

"No. But La Signorina-bah! they ar-r-r-rest her. _Patienza!_"

"You think so?"

"Wait. "

"But her friend the princess will come to her assistance. "

Pietro laughed scornfully, which showed that he had some doubts. 

"But you won't betray her?"

"Never!" puffing quickly. 

"It's a bad business, " admitted O'Mally. This old rascal of a gardenerwas as hard to pump as a frozen well. 

Pietro agreed that it was a bad business. "Eenspector, he come to-day, _domani_--to-morrow. He come nex' day; watch, watch!" Pietro elevatedhis shoulders slowly and dropped them sharply. "All ar-r-r-rest!"

"You think so?"

"_Si. _"

"But you wouldn't betray her for money, Pietro?"

"No!" energetically. 

Pietro might be loyal; still, O'Mally had some shadow of doubt. 

"La Signorina is very beautiful, " irrelevantly. "Ah!" with a gesturetoward the heavens. "And if she isn't a princess, she ought to be one, "slyly. 

"_Zitto!_ She come!" Pietro got up with alacrity, pocketing his pipe, careful that the bowl was right side up. 

She was as daintily fresh in her pink frock as a spring tulip; a frock, thought O'Mally, that would have passed successfully in any ball-room. She was as beautiful as the moon, and to this bit of Persian O'Mallyadded, conscious of a deep intake of breath, the stars and the fartherworlds and the roses close at hand. Her eyes were shining, but her colorwas thin. O'Mally, for all his buffoonery, was a keen one to read aface. She was highly strung. Where would they all land finally?

"I have been looking for you, Mr. O'Mally, " she said. 

"At your Highness' command!"

Pietro, hearing this title, looked from one to the other suspiciously. 

"I have just received a telegram from her Highness. "

An expression of relief flitted over Pietro's withered countenance. 

"It wasn't necessary, " said O'Mally gallantly. 

"But I wish you to read it. I know that you will cease to dream ofdungeons and shackles. " There was a bit of a laugh in her voice. It wasreassuring. 

"All right. " O'Mally accepted the yellow sheet which the governmentfolds and pastes economically. There were fifty words or more. "I canmake out a word or two, " he said; "it's in Italian. Will you read it forme?"

"I forgot, " apologetically. 

Briefly, La Principessa di Monte Bianca gave Sonia Hilda Grosvenor fullauthority to act as her proxy in giving the ball; that in case of anydifficulty with the civil authorities to wire her at once and she wouldcome. As for the invitation, she knew absolutely nothing about it. 

This last statement rather staggered the erstwhile concierge. If theprincess hadn't issued the invitation, who the deuce had? "This leavesme confused, but it improves the scenery a whole lot. But who, then, hasdone this thing?"

"To solve that we must look nearer home. "

"Have you any idea who did it?" he inquired anxiously. 

"No. "

"Have you another invitation?"

"I tore up the only one. "

"That's too bad. A stationer's imprint might have helped us. "

"I was angry and did not think. To-morrow a dozen temporary servantswill be added to the household. We shall be very busy. "

"Before and after, " said O'Mally dryly. He wondered what she on her parthad telegraphed the real princess. It was all very mystifying. 

"Listen!" she said. 

"Horses, " declared O'Mally. 

"Two, " said Pietro, with a hand to his ear. 

La Signorina's color deepened. 

"Our friends, " laughed O'Mally; "come up to see if we are still out ofjail. "

The dreamy, pleasurable days at the Villa Ariadne were no more. Thespirit of suspicion, of unrest, of doubt now stalked abroad, peeringfrom veiled eyes, hovering on lips. And there was a coming and going ofmenials, a to-and-froing of extra gardeners and carpenters, and thesound of many hammers. The ball-room and the dining-room were opened andaired, the beautiful floors polished, and the dust and cobwebs of twentyyears were vanquished. 

In Florence there was a deal of excitement over the coming affair, forthe Villa Ariadne had once been the scene of many a splendidentertainment. Men chatted about it in their cafés and the womenchattered about it in their boudoirs. And there was here and there amysterious smile, a knowing look, a shrug. There had always been amystery regarding the Principessa di Monte Bianca; many doubted heractual existence. But the prince was known all over Europe as a handsomespendthrift. And the fact that at this precise moment he was quarteredwith the eighth corps in Florence added largely to the zest ofspeculation. Oh, the nobility and the military, which are one and thesame thing, would be present at the ball; they were altogether tooinquisitive to decline. 

Daily the inspector of seals made his solemn round, poking into theforbidden chambers, into the lofts, into the cellars. He scrutinizedevery chest and closet with all the provocative slowness of aphysiologist viewing under the microscope the corpuscles of some unhappyfrog. The information he had received from Rome had evidently quietedhis larger doubts; but these people, from the princess down to theimpossible concierge, were a new species to him, well worth watching. AnAmerican princess; this accounted for much. He had even looked up thetwo Americans who rode up from Florence every day; but he found thatthey were outside the pale of his suspicions; one of them was amillionaire, known to the Italian ambassador in the United States; so hedismissed them as negligible quantities. He had some pretty conflictswith Pietro; but Pietro was also a Tuscan, which explains why theinspector never obtained any usable information from this quarter. 

Hillard and Merrihew eyed these noisy preparations broodingly. To theone it was a damper to his rosal romance; to the other it was thebeginning of the end: this woman, so brilliant, so charming, so lovelyand human, could never be his. Well, indeed, he understood now why Mrs. Sandford had warned him; he understood now what the great mistake was. Had fate sent her under his window only for this? Bitterness charged hisheart and often passed his lips. And this other man, who, what, andwhere was he all this time?

He was always at her heels now, saving her a care here, doing a servicethere, but speaking no more of his love. She understood and wasgrateful. Once she plucked a young rose and gave it to him, and he wassure that her hand touched his with pity, though she would not meet hiseyes. And so Merrihew found but little difficulty in picking up thethread of his romance. 

As for O'Mally, he spent most of his leisure studying time-tables. 

At four o'clock on the afternoon of the day before the ball, now thatthe noise had subsided and the servants were in their quarters, LaSignorina went into the gardens alone. An hour earlier she had seenHillard mount and ride away, the last time but once. There seemed tobear down upon her that oppression which one experiences in a nightmare, of being able to fly so high, to run madly and yet to move slowly, always pursued by terror. Strive as she would, she could not throw offthis sense. After all, it was a nightmare, from the day she landed inNew York up to this very moment. But how to wake? Verily, she was mad. Would any sane person do what she had done and was yet about to do? Shemight have lived quietly and peacefully till the end of her days. Butno! And all her vows were like dried reeds in a tempest, broken andbeaten. Even now there was a single avenue of escape, but she knew thatshe could not profit by it and leave these unfortunate derelicts toshift for themselves. It was not fair that they should be made to sufferfor her mad caprices. She must play it out boldly to the final line, come evil or not. . . . Love! She laughed brokenly and struck her hands insuppressed fury. A fitting climax, this! All the world was mad and shewas the maddest in it. 

Some one was coming along the path. She wheeled impatiently. She wantedto be alone. And of all men Worth was not the one she cared to see. Butthe sight of his pale face and set jaws stayed the words she wasinclined to speak. She waited restlessly. 

"I realize that my presence may be distasteful to you, " he began, notwithout some minor agitation. It was the first time in days that he hadstood so near to her or had spoken while alone with her. "But I havesomething to say to you upon which your future welfare largely depends. "

"I believed that we had settled that. "

"I am not making any declaration of love, madame, " he said. 

"I am listening. " This prelude did not strike her favorably. 

"There has been a tremendous wonder, as I understand, about this ball. "

"In what way?" guardedly. 

"In regard to the strange manner in which the invitations were issued. "

"Have you found out who did it?" she demanded. 

"Yes. " The light in his eyes was feverish despite the pallor of hisface. 

"Who was it?" fiercely. Oh, but she would have revenge for thismiserable jest!

"I issued those invitations--with a definite purpose. "

"You?" Her eyes grew wide and her lips parted. 

"I!" a set defiance in his tone. 

"It is you who have done this thing?"

"Yes. I am the guilty man. I did the work well, considering thedifficulties. The list was the main obstacle, but I overcame that. Irepresented myself as secretary to her Highness, which, when all issaid, was the very thing agreed upon in Venice. I am the guilty man;"but he spoke like a man who was enjoying a triumph. 

"And you have the effrontery to confess your crime to me?" her furyblazing forth. 

"Call it what you please, the fact remains. "

"What purpose had you in mind when you did this cowardly thing? And Ihad trusted you and treated you as an equal! And so it was you whoperpetrated this forgery, this miserable jest?"

"Forgery, yes; jest, no. " Her anger did not alarm him; he had gone toofar to be alarmed at anything. 

"Why did you do it?"

"I did it as a man who has but a single throw left. One chance in athousand; I took that chance and won. "

"I do not understand you at all. " She was tired. 

"As I said, I had a definite purpose. An imposture like this is a prisonoffense. I asked you to marry me. I do so again. "

"You are hiding a threat!" The mental chaos cleared and left her thoughtkeen and cold. 

"I shall hide it no longer. Marry me, or I shall disclose the impostureto the police. "

"Oh!" She shot him a glance, insolent and piercing. Then she laughed, but neither hysterically nor mirthfully. It was the laughter of one indeadly anger. "I had believed you to be a man of some reason, Mr. Worth. Do you suppose, even had I entertained some sentiment toward you, thatit would survive a circumstance like this?"

"I am waiting for your answer. "

"You shall have it. Why, this is scarcely on the level with cheapmelodrama. Threats? How short-sighted you have been! Did you dream thatany woman could be won in this absurd fashion? You thought nothing ofyour companions, either, or the trouble you were bringing about theirheads. "

"Yes or no?" His voice was not so full of assurance as it had been. 

"No!"

"Take care!" advancing. 

"I am perfectly capable of taking care. And heed what I have to say toyou, Mr. Worth. You will leave this villa at once; and if you do not goquietly, I shall order the servants to put you forth. That is myanswer. "

"You speak as though you were the princess, " he snarled. 

"Till Thursday morning I _am_!" La Signorina replied proudly. 

"I shall inform the police. "

"Do so. Now, as there is nothing more to be said, be gone!"

He saw that he had thrown and lost; and a man who loses his last throwis generally desperate. Regardless of consequences, he seized herroughly in his arms. She struck him across the eyes with full strength, and she was no weakling. He gasped in pain and released her. 

"If I were a man, " she said quietly, but with lightning in her eyes, "you should die for that!" She left him. 

Worth, a hundred varied emotions rocking him, stared after her till shewas no longer in sight. There were tears in his eyes and a ringing inhis head. Fool! To play this kind of game against that kind of woman!Fool, fool! He had written the end himself. It was all over. He went tohis room, got together his things, found a cart, and drove secretly intoFlorence. 

On the night of the ball there was a brilliant moon. Rosy Chineselanterns stretched from tree to tree. The little god in the fountaingleamed with silver on one side and there was a glow as of life on theother. From the long casement windows, opened to the mild air of thenight, came the murmur of music. The orchestra was playing Strauss, thedreamy waltzes from _The Queen's Lace Handkerchief_. Bright uniforms andhandsome gowns flashed by the opened windows. Sometimes a vagrant puffof air would find its way in, and suddenly the ball-room dimmed and thedancers moved like phantoms. The flames of the candles would struggleand, with many a flicker, right themselves, and the radiant colors andjewels would renew their luster. 

O'Mally, half hidden behind a tree, wondered if he had not fallen asleepover some tale by Scheherazade and was not dreaming this. But here wasold Pietro standing close by. It was all real. At odd whiles he had avision of Kitty in her simple white dress, of Merrihew's flushed face, of Hillard's frowning pallor, of La Signorina wholly in black, a rarenecklace round her white throat, a star of emeralds in her hair, herface calm and serene. Where would they all be on the morrow?

"Pietro, she is more than beautiful!" sighed O'Mally. 

"But wait, " said Pietro. He alone among the men knew the cause ofWorth's disappearance. "Trouble. "

Leaning against the door which gave entrance to the ball-room from thehall were two officers, negligently interested in the moving picture. "What do you make of it?" asked one. 

"Body of Bacchus, you have me there!"

"Shall we go?"

"No, no! The prince himself will be here at eleven. He was, singularlyenough, not invited; and knowing the story as I do, I am curious towitness the scene. The women are already picking her to pieces. To givea ball in this hurried manner, without ladies in attendance! TheseAmericans! But she _is_ beautiful, " with evident reluctance. 

Hillard, peering gloomily over their shoulders, overheard. The prince!Oh, this must not be. There could be only one prince in a matter of thiskind. He pushed by the Italians without apology for his rudeness, edgedaround the ball-room till he reached La Signorina's side. He must saveher at all hazards. 

"A word, " he whispered in German. 

"What is it?" she asked in the same tongue. 

"The prince himself will be here at eleven. "

"What prince?"

"Di Monte Bianca. Come, there is no time to lose. I have been holding mycarriage ready ever since I came. Come. "

"Thank you, but it is too late. " She smiled, but it was a tired andlonely little smile. "Wait near me, but fear nothing. " She had longsince armed her nerves against this moment. 

"But--"

"Enough! Leave everything to me. "

"In God's name, who and what are you that you show no alarm when suchdanger threatens?"

"I have told you to wait, " she answered. 

He stepped back, beaten, discouraged. He would wait, and woe to any whotouched her!

At precisely eleven the music ceased for intermission. There was a lull. Two _carabinieri_ pushed their way into the ball-room. Tableau. 

"Which among you is called the Principessa di Monte Bianca?" was askedauthoritatively. 

"I am she, " said La Signorina, stepping forth. 

The _carabinieri_ crossed quickly to her side. 

"What do you wish?" she asked distinctly. 

"You are under arrest for imposture. You are not the Principessa diMonte Bianca; you are known as La Signorina, a singer. "

Hillard, wild with despair, made as though to intervene. 

"Remain where you are!" he was warned. 

As the _carabinieri_ were about to lay hands upon La Signorina, a loudvoice from the hall stopped them. 

"One moment!" An officer in riding breeches and dusty boots entered andapproached the dramatic group. Hillard and Merrihew recognized himinstantly. It was the man with the scar. "What is the trouble?"

"This woman, " explained one of the _carabinieri_, saluting respectfully, "is posing as your wife, Highness. We are here to arrest her. "

"Do not touch her!" said the prince. "She has the most perfect right inthe world to do what she has done. She _is_ the Principessa di MonteBianca, my wife!"

CHAPTER XXIV

MEASURE FOR MEASURE

Silence invested the Villa Ariadne; yet warm and mellow light illuminedmany a window or marked short pathways on the blackness of the lawn. Ofthe hundred lanterns hanging in the gardens, not a dozen still burned, and these offered rather a melancholy reminder of joy and laughterdeparted. The moon was high in the heavens now, and the shadows cast bythe gloomy cypresses put the little god in the fountain in completedarkness. A single marble bench stood out with that vividness which onlymarble and moonshine can produce. All the carriages, save one, weregone. A solitary saddle-horse rattled his bit, pawed restively, andtossed his head worriedly from side to side, as if prescience hadtouched him with foretelling. 

On the other side of the wall, lurking in the dark niches, was a tall, lean, grey-haired old man who watched and listened and waited. Wheneverhe ventured into the moonlight the expression on his face was exultantbut sinister. He was watching and listening and waiting for the horse. At the first sound of the animal's prancing hoofs on the stones by theporter's lodge, the old man was prepared to steal to the self-appointedplace somewhat down the road. What befell there would be wholly in thehands of God. Seven years! It was a long time. He had not hunted forthis man; he was breaking no promise; their paths had recrossed; it wasdestiny. So he waited. 

Within the ball-room the candles were sinking in their brass sconces andlittle waxen stalactites formed about the rims. The leaving of theguests had been hurried and noisy and without any particular formalityor directness. In truth, it resembled a disorderly retreat more thananything else. The dénouement was evidently sufficient; they had nodesire to witness the anti-climax, however interesting and instructiveit might be. _Carabinieri_ and tableaux and conjugal reunion; it was toomuch to be crowded all into one night. Good-by! During this flight hisHighness the Principi di Monte Bianca, Enrico by name, had taken thepart of an amused spectator; but now that the last of the unwelcomeguests was gone, he assumed the role premeditated. He strode up and downthe floor, his spurs tinkling and his saber rattling harshly. He stoppedbefore this painting or that, scrutinized the corners to ascertain whatartist had signed it; he paused an interval before the marble faun, which he recognized as a genuine antique. These things really interestedhim, for he had never been inside the Villa Ariadne till this night. Andthere was an excellent reason. Occasionally he glanced at the group onthe opposite side of the room. He laughed silently. They were as livelyas so many sticks of wood. Oh, he would enjoy himself to-night; he wouldextract every drop of pleasure from this rare and unexpected moment. Hadshe been mad, he wondered, to give him out of hand this longed-foropportunity? A month longer and this scene would have been impossible. At last he came to a stand in front of La Signorma, who was white andweary. The two had not yet exchanged a word. 

"So, " he said, "after five years I find you, my beautiful wife!" Withone hand hipping his saber and the other curling his mustaches, hesmiled at her. "What a devil of a time you have given me! Across oceansand continents! A hundred times I have passed you without knowing ittill too late. And here, at the very moment when I believed it was allover, you fling yourself into the loving arms of your adoring husband! Ido not understand. "

"Be brief, " she replied, the chill of snows in her voice. Her hate forthis man had no empty corners. "I have played foolishly into your hands. Say what you will and be gone. "

"What a welcome!"

"Be quick!"

There was danger in her voice now, and he recognized the tense qualityof it. "I shall telegraph to the attorneys in Rome to partition theestates, my heart!" mocking her. "The king will not add to his privatepurse the riches of Colonel Grosvenor and the Principi di Monte Bianca, your father and mine, old fools! To tell the truth, I am badly in needof money, and, head of Bacchus! your appearance here is life to me, mydear Sonia. Life! I am a rich man. But, " with a sudden scowl, droppingthe mask of banter, "I do not understand these companions of yours. " Heeyed the group coldly. "What position in my household does thisgentleman occupy?" indicating Hillard and smiling evilly. 

"Give no heed, " said La Signorina, as Hillard took a step forward. 

"So it is all true, then?" he asked despairingly. "You are his wife?"

"Yes. Forgive me, but did I not warn you many times? In the eyes of theItalian civil law I am this man's wife, but in the eyes of God and theChurch, never, never!"

"What do you mean?"

"In a few days I shall write you; in this letter I promise to explaineverything. And you will forgive me, I know. "

"Forgive you? For what? There is nothing to forgive on my side; the giftis on yours. For I have been a meddler, an unhappy one. "

"Will you and Mr. Merrihew go now? I do not wish you two to witness thisscene. "

"Leave you alone with this wretch? No!" said Hillard. 

"Well?" cried the prince impatiently. He was not inclined toward theseconfidences between the American and his wife. "I have asked a questionand nobody replies. I inquire again, what position does he hold?"

"This villa is mine, " she answered, the sharpness of her tone givinghint to the volcano burning in her heart. "However the estates may bepartitioned, this will be mine. I command you to leave it at once, foryour presence here is as unwelcome to me as that of all creeping things. I find that I do not hate you; I loathe you. "

The prince laughed. That she loathed or hated him touched him not in thequick. Love or hate from this woman who knew him for what he was, asoulless scoundrel, was nothing. She was simply a sack of gold. But thiswas his hour of triumph, and he proposed to make the most of it. 

"I could have let the _carabinieri_ take you to prison, " he saidurbanely. "A night in a damp cell would have chastened your spirit. ButI preferred to settle this affair as quickly as possible. But thisfriend of yours, he annoys me. "

"Is it possible?" returned Hillard. "Your Highness has but to say theword and I will undertake the pleasure of relieving you of this man'spresence. "

"Be still, " she said. "Will you go?" to the prince. 

"Presently. First, I wish to add that your dear friend is boththick-skulled and cowardly. I offered to slap his face a few nights ago, but he discreetly declined. "

Hillard laughed shortly. He desired to get closer to this gentlemanlyprince. 

"For my sake!" whispered La Signorina. 

"I am calm, " replied Hillard, gently releasing his arm from her grasp. He approached the prince smiling, but there was murder and despair inhis heart. "Had I known you that night, one of us would not be herenow. "

"It is not too late, " suggested the prince. "Come, are you in love withmy wife?"

"Yes. "

The bluntness of this assertion rather staggered the prince. "You admitit, then?" his throat swelling with rage. 

"There is no reason why I should deny it. "

"She is your--"

But the word died with a cough. Hillard, a wild joy in his heart, caughtthe prince by the throat and jammed him back against the rose-satinpanel, under a dripping candelabrum. The prince made a violent effort todraw his sword, but Hillard seized his sword-arm and pinned it to thepanel above his head. The prince was an athlete, but the man holding himwas at this moment made of iron. The struggling man threw out a legafter the manner of French boxers, but his opponent met it with a knee. Again and again the prince made desperate attempts to free himself. Hewas soon falling in a bad way; he gasped, his lips grew blue and thewhites of his eyes bloodshot. This man was killing him! And so he was;for Hillard, realizing that he had lost everything in the world worthliving for, was mad for killing. 

[Illustration: Again and again the prince made desperate attempts tofree himself]

For a time the others were incapable of action. Merrihew, Kitty, O'Mallyand Smith were in the dark as to what had passed verbally; they couldonly surmise. But here was something they all understood. La Signorinawas first to recover. She sprang toward the combatants and graspedHillard's hand, the one buried in the prince's throat, and pulled. Shewas not strong enough. 

"Merrihew, O'Mally, quick! He is killing him!" she cried wildly. 

The two, Merrihew and O'Mally, finally succeeded in separating the men, and none too soon. The prince staggered to a chair and sank heavily intoit. A moment more and he had been a dead man. But he was not grateful toany one. 

La Signorina turned upon Hillard. "And you would have done this thingbefore my very eyes!"

"I was mad, " he panted, shamed. "I love you better than anything else inGod's world, and this man means that I shall lose you. "

"And you would have come to me across his blood?" wrathfully. 

"I was not thinking of that. The only thought I had was to kill him. Godknows I'm sorry enough. " And he was. 

"Ah, what a night!" She swayed and pressed her hand over her eyes. "No, do not touch me, " she said. "I am not the kind of woman who faints. "

The prince lurched toward Hillard, but fortunately Merrihew heard theslithering sound of the saber as it left its scabbard. Kitty screamedand O'Mally shouted. Merrihew, with a desperate lunge, stopped the blow. He received a rough cut over the knuckles, but he was not aware of thistill the excitement was past. He flung the saber at O'Mally's feet. 

"You speak English, " said Merrihew, in an ugly temper, half regrettingthat he had interfered with Hillard. "You may send your orderly to theHotel Italie to-morrow morning, and your saber will be given to him. Youwill not carry it back to Florence to-night. Now, it is time to excuseyourself. We can get along without you nicely. "

The prince tore at his mustaches. He would have put them all to thesword gladly. Meddlers! To return to Florence without his saber wasdishonor. He cursed them all roundly, after the manner of certainhusbands, and turned to La Signorina. 

"I am in the way here, " he said, controlling his passion withdifficulty. "But listen attentively to what I say: you shall remain mywife so long as both of us live. I had intended arranging your freedom, once the estate and moneys were divided, but not now. You shall read mywife till the end of the book; for unless I meet you half-way, themarriage contract can not be broken. In the old days it was yourconscience. The still small voice seems no longer to trouble you, "turning suggestively to Hillard. "You are stopping at the Hotel Italie?"

"I am. You will find me there, " returned Hillard, with goodunderstanding. 

"Good! Your Highness, to-morrow night I shall have the extreme pleasureof running your lover through the throat. " He picked up his cap, whichlay on one of the chairs, put it on cavalierly, and took his princelypresence out of their immediate vicinity. 

"It will do my soul good to stand before that scoundrel, " said Hillard, stretching out his hands and closing them with crushing force. "He hasfelt the power of my hand to-night. I will kill him. "

La Signorina laid a hand on his arm. "No, Mr. Hillard, you will fight noduel. "

"And why not? I do not see how it can be avoided. "

"You have told me that you love me. As it stands I may sometimes seeyou, but if you kill him, never. "

"He is far more likely to kill me, " said Hillard morosely. "And perhapsit would be a kind service. "

"Shame!" she cried. "Have you no courage? Can you not accept theinevitable manfully? Think of me. I can fight no duels; I must live onand on, tied legally to this man. And it is you who will add misery tomy unhappiness? You will not fight him, " with the assurance of one whohas offered a complete argument. 

"Very well. To be called a coward by a man like that is nothing. I shallnot fight him. "

"Thank you. " And she gave him her hand impulsively. 

"I love you, " he murmured as he bent to kiss the hand; "and it is notdishonorable for you to hear me say so. "

"I forbid you to say that!" But the longing of the world was in her eyesas she looked down at his head. She released her hand. "My friends, to-morrow our little play comes to an end. This is no longer Eden. Wemust go. "

"This is what comes of American girls marrying these blamed foreigners, "growled the tender-hearted O'Mally. "Why did you do it?"

"I am almost Italian, Mr. O'Mally. I had no choice in the matter; theaffair was prearranged by our parents, after the continental fashion. "

"I'm sorry I spoke like that, " O'Mally said contritely. 

"No apologies, if you please. It is only just that you should knowsomething of the case, considering the manner in which I imposed uponyou all. "

"I'll punch Worth's head when I run across him. " O'Mally clenched hisfists. 

"That would change nothing. He was a part of destiny; he has served hislittle turn and has gone. Were we not a happy family together forweeks?" La Signorina smiled wanly. "To-morrow I am going to write Mr. Hillard; I am going to tell him the story. From your point of view youmay write me down a silly fool, but one's angle of vision is notimmutable. "

"You're the finest woman in the world, " declared O'Mally; "and whateveryou have done has been right, I know. "

Then Kitty ran up to La Signorina and embraced her; and the eyes of bothof them swam in tears. 

"You will be happy, at any rate, Kitty. "

"Poor girl!" cried Kitty. Princesses were mortal like other people. "HowI love you! Come back with us to America. "

"I must live out the puzzle over here. "

When Hillard and La Signorina were at length alone, he asked: "Whenshall I see you again?"

"Who knows? Some day, perhaps, when time has softened the sharp edges ofthis moment, the second bitterest I have ever known. To-morrow I shallwrite, or very soon. Now, give me your promise that you will no moreseek me till I send for you. "

"You will send for me?" with eagerness and hope. 

"Why not?" proudly. "There is nothing wrong in our friendship, and Iprize it. Promise. "

"I promise. Good-by! If I remain any longer I shall be making mad, regrettable proposals. For a little while I have lived in paradise. Wherever I may be, at the world's end, you have but to call me; in amonth, in a year, a decade, I shall come. Good-by!" Without looking ather again, he rushed away. 

She remained standing there as motionless as a statue. It seemed to herthat all animation was suspended, and that she could not have moved ifshe had tried. By and by she gazed round the room, fast dimming; at theguttering candles, at the empty chairs, at the vacant doors and hollowwindows. . . . He had not asked her if she loved him, and that was well. But there was not at that moment in all the length and breadth of Italya lonelier woman than her Highness the Principessa di Monte Bianca. 

Meanwhile the prince, raging and out of joint with the world, mountedhis horse. He would have revenge for this empty scabbard, or he wouldresign his commission. His throat still ached and pointed lights dancedbefore his eyes. Eh, well! This time to-morrow night the American shouldpay dearly for it. His short laugh had an ugly sound. This American wasjust the kind of chivalric fool to accept a challenge. But could hehandle foils? Could he fight? Could any of these damned Americanheretics fight, save with their fists? It was the other man's lookout, not his. He put the duel out of his mind as a thing accomplished. Shortly he would have compensation commensurate for all these fiveyears' chagrin. To elude him all this time, to laugh in his face, todefy him, and then to step deliberately into his power! He never couldunderstand this woman. The little prude! But for her fool's consciencehe would not have been riding the beggar's horse to-day. She was now tooself-reliant, too intelligent, too cunning; she was her father overagain, soldier and diplomat. Well, the mystery of her actions remained, but he was no longer the broken noble. So why should he puzzle over thewhys and wherefores of her motives? Ah! and would he not dig his handsdeep into the dusty sacks of gold and silver? Life again, such as hecraved; good cigars and good wine and pretty women who were no ardentfollowers of Minerva. To jam part of this money down the throats of hisyelping creditors, to tear up his paper and fling it into the faces ofthe greedy Jews! Ha, this would be to live! Paris, or Vienna, or London, where he willed; for what hold had the army now?

He was an expert horseman, but, like all Italians, he was by naturecruel. As he passed the gates the horse slid and stumbled to his knees;he was up instantly, only to receive a hard stroke between the ears. This unexpected treatment caused the animal to rear and waltz. This wasnot the stolid-going campaign mount, but his best Irish hunter, on whichhe had won prizes in many a gymkhana. There was a brief struggle, duringwhich the man became master both of himself and the horse. They werejust passing the confines of the villa when a man darted out suddenlyfrom the shadows and seized the bridle. 

"At last, my prince!"

"Giovanni?"

Instinctively the prince reached for his saber, knowing that he had needof it, but the scabbard was empty. He cursed the folly which had madehim lose it. This encounter promised to be a bad one. What mouth of hellhad opened to cast this beggar, of all men, in his path? Oddly enoughhis thought ran swiftly back to the little _casa_ in the SabineHills. . . . Bah! Full of courage, knowing that one or the other would notleave this spot alive, he struck his horse with purpose this time, torun his man down. But Giovanni did not lose his hold; hate and thenearness of revenge made him strong. 

"No, no!" he laughed. "She is dead, my prince. And I, I was not going toseek _you_; I was going to let hell claim you in its own time. But yourode by me to-night. This is the end. "

"Let go, fool!" roared the prince, slashing Giovanni across the facewith the heavy crop. 

Giovanni laughed again and drew his knife. "I shall not miss you thistime!"

The prince, a trained soldier, shifted the reins to his teeth, buriedhis knees in the barrel of the horse, unhooked his scabbard and swung italoft, deftly catching the reins again in his left hand. But Giovanniwas fully prepared. He released the bridle, his arm went back and theknife spun through the air. Yet in that instant in which Giovanni's armwas poised for the cast, the prince lifted his horse on its haunches. The knife gashed the animal deeply in the neck. Still on its haunches itbacked, wild with the unaccustomed pain. The lip of the road, at thisspot rotten and unprotected, gave way. The prince saw the danger andtried to urge the horse forward. It was too late. The hind-quarterssank, the horse whinnied in terror, and the prince tried in vain to slipfrom the saddle. There came a grating crash, a muffled cry, and horseand rider went pounding down the rock-bound gorge. 

Giovanni listened. He heard the light, metallic clatter of the emptyscabbard as it struck projecting boulders; he heard it strangely abovethe duller, heavier sound. Then the hush of silence out of which camethe faint mutter of the stream. Giovanni trembled and the sweat on hisbody grew cold: less from reaction than from the thought that actualmurder had been snatched from his hands. For several minutes he waited, dreading, but there was no further sound. He searched mechanically forhis knife, recovered it, and then crept down the abrupt side of thegorge till he found them. They were both dead. A cloud swept over thebenign moon. 

"Holy Father, thou hast waited seven years too long!" Giovanni crossedhimself. 

He gazed up at the ledge where the tragedy had begun. The cloud passedand revealed the shining muskets of two _carabinieri_, doubtlessattracted by the untoward sounds. Giovanni, agile and muscular as awolf, stole over the stream and disappeared into the blackness beyond. But there was an expression of horror on his face which could not havebeen intensified had Dante and Vergil and all the shades of the Infernotrooped at his heels. 

CHAPTER XXV

FREE

It was Merrihew who woke the sleeping cabby, pushed Hillard into a seat, and gave the final orders which were to take them out of the VillaAriadne for ever. He was genuinely moved over the visible misery of hisfriend. He readily believed that Hillard's hurt was of the incurablekind, and so long as memory lasted the full stab of the pain wouldrecur. So to get him away from the scene at once was the best possiblething he could do. Merrihew noticed the little group of men collected atthe edge of the road, but he was too deeply absorbed in his own affairsto stop and make inquiries. The principal thing was to reach Florencewithout delay. He smoked two cigars and offered scarcely a dozen wordsto Hillard. When they arrived at the white hotel in the Borgognissantiand the night watchman drew the great bolts to admit them, Merrihew wasglad. And all this to evolve from an unknown woman singing underHillard's window but six months ago! And a princess! Truly the world wasfull of surprises. 

He went to bed, advising Hillard to do the same. Mental repose wasneeded before they could sit down and discuss the affair rationally. 

At nine in the morning Hillard heard a fist banging on the panels of thedoor. 

"Open, Jack; hurry!" cried Merrihew outside. There was great agitationin his voice. 

Hillard opened the door. "What's the trouble, Dan?" he asked. 

Merrihew closed the door and whispered: "Dead!" As the light from thewindow fell upon his face it disclosed pale cheeks and widely openedeyes. 

"Who?" Hillard's heart contracted. "In God's name, who?"

"The prince. They found him and his horse at the bottom of the gorge. There was a broken place in the road, and over this they had gone. Theconcierge says that there has been foul play. Tracks in the dust, astrange cut in the neck of the horse, and a scabbard minus its saber. Now, what the devil shall I do with the blamed sword?"

Dead! Hillard sat down on the edge of the bed. Dead! Then she was free, free. 

"What shall I do with it?" demanded Merrihew a second time. 

"The sword? You really brought it?"

"Yes. And if they find us with it--"

"Put it in the bottom of the trunk and leave it there till you land inNew York. But the prince dead? You are sure?"

"All Florence is ringing with the story of the ball, the wind-up, andthe tragedy. He's dead, no doubt of it. Shall we go up to the villa thismorning?"

"No, Dan;" but all the weariness went out of Hillard's eyes. 

And then Merrihew noticed. Hillard still wore his evening clothes andthe bed was untouched. 

"That's very foolish. "

"Why? I couldn't have closed my eyes, " replied Hillard. 

"But won't she need you up there?" Merrihew was obviously troubled. 

"If she needs me she'll send for me. But I am not needed, and she willnot send for me. I shall remain here and wait. "

"He's dead. Things work out queerly, don't they?"

"She is free. Thank God!"

"You are not sorry, are you?"

"Sorry? In a way, yes. He was a blackleg, but it isn't pleasant tocontemplate the manner of his end. "

"Well, I can frankly say that there's no such sentiment on my side. He'dhave cut you down if I hadn't stopped him, " said Merrihew, rubbing hisswollen knuckles. 

"It was measure for measure: I should have killed him had not you andO'Mally interfered. "

"That's true. But what's back of all this muddle? Why was shemasquerading as an opera singer, when fortune and place were under herhand?"

"She has promised to write. "

"By George!"

"What now?"

"Didn't Giovanni tell us that he had friends in Fiesole, and that he wasgoing to visit them?"

"Giovanni? I had forgotten. But what had my old valet against theprince?"

"Giovanni had a daughter, " said Merrihew. "His knife left a scar on theman. The prince carried a long scar on his cheek. Two and two makefour. "

"But Giovanni had promised us. "

"If this man did not cross his path. It looks as if he did. "

Hillard had nothing to offer. He simply began dressing in hisday-clothes, stopping at times and frowning at the walls. Merrihewwisely refrained from adding any questions. He was human; he knew thatsomewhere in Hillard's breast the fires of hope burned anew. 

The day passed without additional news. But at night the last of theAmerican Comic Opera Company straggled into the hotel, plus variouspieces of luggage. O'Mally, verbose as ever, did all the talking andvending of news. 

"You wouldn't know her, " he said, referring to La Signorina--for theywould always call her that. "When she heard of that duffer's death Iswear that she believed you had a hand in it. But when she heard thatthe accident had occurred before you left the villa, she just collapsed. Oh, there was a devil of a mess; police agents, _carabinieri_, inspectors. It was a good thing that there were plenty of witnesses toprove that the prince had called La Signorina his wife, or she would bein jail this night, and we along with her. The police were hunting forthe missing saber. Of course we knew nothing about it, " with a wink atMerrihew. "I don't know what would have happened if her lawyer hadn'thurried up from Rome and straightened out things. Queer business. Butshe's a princess, all right; and she doesn't need any foreign handle, either. Kitty, you stick to America when you think of getting married. "

"I shall, " said Kitty demurely. 

"My opinion, " went on O'Mally, "is that the prince beat his nag out ofpure deviltry, and the brute jumped into the gorge with him. The_carabinieri_ claim that they saw a man in the gorge. They gave chase, but couldn't find hide nor hair of him. "

Merrihew looked significantly at Hillard, who signed to him to besilent. 

"I am glad that we can sail Saturday, " said Kitty. She was very tired. 

"So am I, " echoed Smith. "All I want is a heart-to-heart talk with oldBroadway. Never again for mine!"

"Go on!" said O'Mally. "You'll be talking about this for the next tenyears. "

"As to that I don't say. But never my name on a foreign contract again, unless it takes me to London. No more _parle Italiano_. Let's go over tothe Grand. There's an American barkeep over there, and he'll sympathizewith us. "

"You're on!" said O'Mally willingly. 

When they were gone, Hillard asked Kitty if she had any news. 

"She said that she would write you, and for you to remain here till youreceived the letter. "

"Was that all?"

"Yes. Have you seen anything of that wretched man Worth, who is thecause of all this trouble?"

"No, nor do I care to. "

"Suppose the three of us take a stroll along the Lungarno?" suggestedMerrihew. "It will be the last chance together. "

"You two go. I am worn out, " said Hillard. "I had no sleep last night. "

So Kitty and Merrihew went out together. They climbed the Ponte Vecchio, leaned against the rail back of the bust of Cellini and contemplated thetrembling lights on the sluggish waters. 

"I hate to leave him alone, " said Merrihew. 

Kitty nestled snugly against his arm. "Don't worry about him. It is allwell with him. "

"How do you know?"

"I am a woman. "

"Oh!" A bell crashed out across the river; it was nine o'clock. "Do youlove me, Kitty Killigrew?"

"Very much, Mr. Merrihew. "

"But why did you keep me waiting so long?"

"That's one of the few secrets I shall never tell you. "

Merrihew pursued his investigations no further. "We shall have to livein a flat. "

"I should be happy in a hut. What an adventure we have had! I regretnone of it. "

"Neither do I. " And then, sure of the shadow and the propitiousness ofthe moment, he kissed her. Kitty would never have forgiven him if hehadn't. "I've bought you a cricket to take home. "

"A cricket?"

"Yes. These Florentines consider crickets very lucky, that is, the firstyou find in May. You put him in a little wire cage and feed him lettuce, and if he sings, why, there's no doubt about the good luck. Funny littlecodger! Looks like a parson in a frockcoat and an old-fashioned stock. "

"Good luck always, " said Kitty, brushing his hand with her lips. 

They were gone, and Hillard was alone. He missed them all sorely, Merrihew with his cheery laugh, Kitty with her bright eyes, and O'Mallywith his harmless drolleries. And no letter. It would not be true to saythat he waited patiently, that he was resigned; he waited because hemust wait. There had been a great shock, and she required time torecover her poise. Was there a woman in all the world like her? No. Shewas well worth waiting for. And so he would wait. She was free now; butwould that really matter? There was no barrier; but could she love him?And might not her letter, when it did come, be a valedictory?

Daily he searched the newspapers for news of Giovanni; but to allappearances Giovanni had vanished, as indeed he had, for ever out ofHillard's sight and knowledge. 

The letter came one week after the departure of his friends. It waspost-marked Venice. And the riddle was solved. 

CHAPTER XXVI

THE LETTER

Shall I say that I am sorry? No. I am not a hypocrite. Death in allforms is horrible, and I shudder and regret, but I am not sorry. Does itsound cruel and heartless to express my feelings thus frankly? Well, Iam human; I do not pose as being better than I am. I have suffered agrievous wrong. At the hands of this man I lost my illusions, I learnedthe words hate and loathing, shame and despair. Again I say that Iregret the violence of his end, but I am not sorry to be free. If wewait long enough the scales of Heaven will balance nicely. Some outragedfather or brother, to this alone do I attribute his death. 

Let me be as brief as possible; I have no desire to weary you, only thewish to vindicate in part what appeared to you as a species of madness. 

My father was Colonel Grosvenor, of the Confederate army, during theCivil War. On General Lee's staff was an Italian named the Principi diMonte Bianca. He was an Arab for wandering. The tumult of battle wouldbring him round the world. Rich, titled, a real noble, he was at heartan adventurer, a word greatly abused these inglorious days. For does notthe word adventurer stand for the pioneer, the explorer, the inventor, the soldier and the sailor? It is wrong to apply the word to theimpostor. My father was cut from the same pattern, a wild and recklessspirit in those crowded times. The two became friends such as you andMr. Merrihew are. Their exploits became famous. My father was also richand a man of foresight. He knew that the stars and bars was a flag oftemporary endurance. All that portion of his wealth which remained inthe South he readily sacrificed with his blood. His real wealth was inforeign securities, mines, oils, steel, steamships. When the warterminated, the prince prevailed upon my father to return with him toItaly. Italy was not new to my father; and as he loved the country andspoke the language, he finally consented. He saw the shadow of thereconstruction and dreaded it; and there were no ties of blood to holdhim in the States. Italy itself was in turmoil. _Il Re Galantuomo_, thatPiedmontese hunter, Vittorio Emanuele, wished to liberate Venice fromthe grasp of Austria, to wrest temporal power from the Vatican, and tosend the French troops back to France. Well, he accomplished all thesethings, and both my father and the prince were with him up to the timehe entered the Quirinal. After victory, peace. My father invested invillas and palaces, added to his fortune through real estate in Rome, lived in Florence a little while, and settled down to end his days inthe Venetian palace on the Grand Canal. He and the prince met daily atFlorian's and planned futures or dreamed over the noisy past. 

Then my father, still young, remember, fell in love with the daughter ofa Venetian noble. It was a happy union. Shortly after the prince alsomarried. He was, with the exception of my father, the most lovable man Iever knew. Brave, kindly, impetuous, honorable, witty and wise; it doesnot seem possible that such a father should have such a son. Though hecovered it up with all the rare tact of a man of the world, his maritalties were not happy like my father's. 

There came a great day: a young prince was born, and the rough kingstood as his god-father. Later I added my feeble protest, at the cost ofmy mother's life. These domestic histories! how far more vital to thewelfare of nations than the flaming pages of war and politics! As I grewup I became my father's constant companion; we were always out of doors. By and by he sent me to America to school; for he still loved hiscountry and was not that fault-finding scold, the expatriate. And I mayas well add that your defense of America pleased me as few things havein these later years. I returned from America to enter a convent out ofRome. From there I went to Milan and studied music under the masters. Myfather believed in letting youth choose what it would. Music! Whatshould I have done without it in the dark hours?

One fatal day the old prince and my father put their heads together anddetermined that this great friendship of theirs should be perpetuated;the young prince should marry the young signorina. When will parentslearn not to meddle with the destinies of their children? So theyproceeded to make the alliance an absolute certainty. They drew up thestrangest of wills. Both men were in full control of their properties;there was no entailed estate such as one finds in England. They could doas they pleased; and this was before Italy had passed the law requiringthat no art treasures should be sold or transported. Fortunately for me, my mother's property was considerable. 

The impossible clauses in the joint will read that if we two youngpeople declined the bargain the bulk of the estates should revert to thecrown; again, if we married and separated and were not reunited insideof five years, the fortunes should become the crown's; if, havingseparated from my husband, either for just or unjust reasons, I shouldsecretly or publicly occupy any villa or palace mentioned in the will, it would be a tacit admission that I accepted my husband. Was there eversuch an insane tangle kindly meant? We must marry, we must be happy;that our minds and hearts were totally different did not matter at all. Do you understand why I went from city to city, living haphazard?Sometimes I was very poor, for my income from my mother's estate waspaid quarterly, and I did not inherit my father's business ability. During the recent days in Venice I had to offer my jewels because Idared not write my attorneys for an advance, for I did not wish them toknow where I was. 

Time went on. How young I was in those days! What dreams I dreamed! Theold prince died suddenly, his wife followed. And then my kind and lovingfather went the way. I was very, very lonely. But I was taken under thewing of a duchessa who was popular at court. At this period the youngprince was one of the handsomest men in Europe. Foolish women set aboutto turn his head. He was brave, clever and engaging. Dissipation had notyet enmeshed him. My heart fluttered naturally when I saw him, for hewas permitted to see me at intervals. Young girls have dreams which inolder years appear ordinary enough. He was then to me Prince Charming. Iwas really glad that I was to marry him. 

On completing my education I decided to live in Rome, where the princewas quartered. I went into the world with serene confidence, believingthat all men were good like my father and his friend. The old duchessamothered the rich American girl gladly; for, though I was half Italian, they always considered me as the child of my father. I was presented atcourt, I was asked to dinners and receptions and balls. I was quite therage because the dowager queen gave me singular attention. My head wasin a whirl. In Europe, as you know, till a woman is married she is anonentity. I was beginning to live. The older women were so attentiveand the men so gallant that I lost sight of the things that counted. AsI was a fluent linguist, and as I possessed a natural lightness ofheart, my popularity was by no means due to my property. I believe Isang wherever I went, because I loved music, because it was beautiful tosend one's voice across space in confidence; it was like liberating thesoul for a moment. 

The prince by this time seemed changed in some way; but I was blindlyyoung. A girl of twenty in European society knows less than a girl offifteen in the States. Often I noticed the long scar on his cheek. Hehad received it, he said, in some cavalry exercise. As the Italians arereckless horsemen, I accepted this explanation without question. I knowdifferently now! But he was as courteous and gallant to me as ever. 

Now, there was another clause in this will. It was the one thing whichmade the present life tolerable and possible to me. We were to bemarried without pomp, quietly, first at the magistrate's and then at thechurch. 

Have you not often seen the carriage pass you in the streets? The bridein her white dress and veil and the bouquet of roses? The ribbon roundthe driver's whip? The good-natured smiles of the idlers, the childrenrunning out and crying for a rose? They say that a rose given by thebride brings luck. It was thus we passed through the streets to themagistrate's. I did not know then that I was not in love, that I wasonly young and curious. I threw roses to any who asked. The prince satbeside me in full-dress uniform, looking very handsome anddistinguished. We heard many compliments. The prince smiled, but he wasnervous and not at ease. I thought nothing of this at the time. Ibelieved his nervousness a part of my own. To be sure there was a fairgathering at the magistrate's, for the name of Monte Bianca was widelyknown. But there was none of our own class present; they would be at thechurch. 

The magistrate performed his part in the affair. Legally we were man andwife. We were leaving for the church, when at the very doorway ahandsome woman, sad-eyed, weary, shabbily dressed, touched me on thearm. 

"A rose, Signora!"

I gave it to her, smiling pityingly. 

"God pray, " she said, "that this man will make you happier than he mademe!"

The prince was at my elbow, pushing me toward the carriage. Butsomething had been said that could not be lightly passed. I stood firm. 

"Let us be on!" said the prince eagerly. 

"Wait!" I turned to the woman. "Signora, what do you mean by thosewords?"

"His Highness knows. " She pointed to the prince, whose face I now saw, strangely enough, for the first time. It was black with rage andugliness. 

"What has he been to you?" I demanded. 

She answered with a gesture, pathetic but easily translatable. It wasenough for me. I understood. In that moment I became a woman withoutillusions. Without looking at the prince I entered the carriage andclosed the door in his face. He stormed, he pleaded, he lied. I was ofstone. There was a scene. He was low enough to turn upon the poor womanand strike her across the face with his gloves. Even had I loved him, that would have been the end of the romance. I ordered the driver totake me home. There would be no wedding at the church that day. Therewas a great scandal. Every one took up the prince's cause, with theexception of the king. But my determination was not to be moved. 

The prince was almost bankrupt. He had squandered the liberal fortuneleft him independently of the will. He had sold to the Jews half of thefortune he expected to get after marrying me. He had not the slightestaffection for me; he was desperate and wanted the money. How old andwise I became during that ride home from the magistrate's! The princecalled, but I was not at home to him. He wrote many times, but I repliedto none of his letters. He struck but one string; I was foolish to let alittle peccadillo of bachelorhood stand in the way; all men were thesame; the position I took was absurd. I never answered. I returned toVenice. I have seen him but twice since; once at Monte Carlo and thatnight at the Villa Ariadne. How he begged, schemed, plotted, andmanoeuvered to regain my favor! But I knew now. I vowed he should neverhave a penny; it should all go to the crown. 

When at length he found that I was really serious, he became base in histactics. _He_ was the one who was wronged. He gave life to such rumorsamong those I knew that soon I found doors closed to me which had alwaysbeen open. No Italian woman could see the matter from my point of view. I was an American for all that my mother was a Venetian, therefore I waswrong. 

So great was this man's vanity that he truly believed that all he had todo was to meet me face to face to overcome my objections! I have alreadytold you that my impulses are as mysterious to me as to others. Why Iwent to the Villa Ariadne is not to be explained. I do not know. . . . Acomic opera singer! But I shall always love those light-heartedcompanions, who were cheerful under misfortune, who accepted each newcalamity as a jest by the Great Dramatist. Perhaps the truth is, thislast calamity was brought about by my desire to aid them without lettingthem know who I was. I have committed many foolish acts, but innocentand hurtless. To you I have been perfectly frank. From the first Iwarned you; and many times I have given you hurts which recoiled upon myown head. But all for your good. I wanted you to be clear of the tangle. There! That is all. There is no more mystery concerning Sonia HildaGrosvenor. 

 * * * * *

And so the letter ended. There was not a word regarding any futuremeeting; there was nothing to read between the lines. A great lonelinesssurged over Hillard. Was this, then, really the end? No! He struck theletter sharply on his palm. No, this should not be the end. He wouldwait here in Florence till the day of doom. He would waste no time inseeking her, for he knew that if he sought he would not find. 

Day after day dragged through the hours, and Florence grew thinned andtorrid. Sometimes he rode past the Villa Ariadne, but he never stopped. He could not bring himself to enter those confines again alone. 

In the meantime he had received a cable from Merrihew, stating that heand Mrs. Merrihew would be at home after September. He read the linemany times. Good old Dan! He was right; it took patience and persistenceto win a woman. 

It was in the middle of June that, one afternoon, the concierge handedhim a telegram. It contained but three words:

"Villa Serbelloni, Bellaggio. "

CHAPTER XXVII

BELLAGGIO

The narrowness of the imagination of the old masters is generallydepicted in their canvases. Heaven to them was a serious business ofpearly gates, harps, halos, and aërial flights on ambient pale clouds. Or, was it the imagination of the Church, dominating the imagination ofthe artist? To paint halos, or to starve? was doubtless the Hamletonianquestion of the Renaissance. Now Hillard's idea of Heaven--and in all ofus it is a singular conception--was Bellaggio in perpetual springtime;Bellaggio, with its cypress, copper-beech, olive, magnolia, bamboo, pines, its gardens, its vineyards, its orchards of mulberry trees, itsrestful reaches, for there is always a quality of rest in the ability tosee far off; Bellaggio, with the emerald Lecco on one side and theblue-green Como on the other, the white villages nestling along theshores, and the great shadowful Italian Alps. 

The Villa Serbelloni stands on the wooded promontory, and all day longthe warm sunshine floods its walls and terraces and glances from thepolished leaves of the tropical plants. The villa remains to-day nearlyas it was when Napoleon's forces were in Milan and stabling their horsesin the monastery of Santa Maria delle Grazia, under the fading _LastSupper_, by Da Vinci. It is a hotel now, the annex of one of the greathostelries down below in the town. A tortuous path leads up to thevilla; and to climb it is to perform the initial step or lesson toproper mountain-climbing. Here and there, in the blue distances, onefinds a patch of snow, an exhilarating foretaste of the high Alps northof Domo d' Ossola and south of the icy Rhone. 

The six-o'clock boat from Como puffed up noisily and smokily to thequay, churning her side-paddles. The clouds of sunset lay like crimsongashes on the western mountain peaks. Hillard stepped ashoreimpatiently. What a long day it had been! How white the Villa Serbelloniseemed up there on the little hill-top. He gave his luggage to theporter from the Grand and followed him on foot to the hotel, which wasonly a dozen steps from the landing. No, he would not dine at the hotel, all but empty at this time of year. He was dining at the VillaSerbelloni above. He dressed quickly, but with the lover's care and thelover's doubt. Less than an hour after leaving the boat he stepped forthfrom the gardens and took the path up to the villa. The bloom on thewings of the passing swallow, the clouds on the face of the smoothwaters, the incense from the flowers now rising upon the vanished sun, the tinted crests encircling, and the soft wind which murmured drowsilyamong the overhanging branches, all these made the time and place asperfect as a lover's mind could fancy. 

Sonia, Sonia; his step took the rhythm of it as he climbed. Sonia, Sonia; the very silence seemed to voice it. And she was waiting for himup there. How would she greet him, knowing that nothing would havebrought him to her side but the hope of love? With buoyant step heturned by the porter's lodge and strode down the broad roadway to thevilla, a deepening green arch above him. 

Handsome he was not; he was more. With his thin, high-bred face, hisfine eyes, his slender, graceful figure, he presented that type ofgentleman to whom all women pay unconscious homage, whether low-born orhigh, and in whom the little child places its trust and confidence. 

He arrived shortly. As he entered the glass-inclosed corridor theconcierge rose from his chair and bowed. Hillard inclined his head andwent on. There was no one in the dining-room. In the restaurant therewas no one but a lonely Russian countess, who had spent part of the yearat the villa for more than a decade. He doffed his hat as he passedthrough the room and gained the picturesque terrace. Afar he saw a tablespread under the great oak. A woman sat by it. She was gazing down thewinding terraces toward the Lecco. It was still daylight, and he wouldhave known that head of hair among the ten thousand houris of heaven. Softly, softly! he murmured to his heart, now become insurgent. 

Whatever may have been the dream she was following, she dismissed itupon hearing his step, strangely familiar. She did not rise, but sheextended her hand, a grave inquiry in her slumbrous eyes. With equalgravity he clasped the hand, but held back the impulse to kiss it. Hewas not quite sure of himself just then. He sat down opposite her and, smiling, whimsically inquired:

"Now, where did we leave off?"

At first she did not understand. 

He enlightened her. "I refer to that Arabian Nights entertainment in NewYork. Where did we leave off that interesting discussion?"

She smiled brightly. "We shall take up the thread of that discourse withthe coffee. "

"Why not countermand the order for dinner? I am not hungry. "

"But I am, " she replied. She was wholly herself now. The tact with whichhe began his address disembarrassed her. For two days, since shedespatched the telegram, she had lived in a kind of ecstatic terror; shehad even regretted the message, once it was beyond recall. "I am humanenough to be hungry, sometimes. " She summoned the waiter. 

The dinner was excellent, but Hillard scarcely knew what this or thatplate was. All his hunger lay in his eyes. Besides, he did not want todiscuss generalities during the intermittent invasions of the waiter, who never knew how many times he stood in danger of being hurled overinto the flowering beds of lavender which banked the path of the secondterrace. And when he brought the coffee and lingered for further orders, it was Hillard who dismissed him, rather curtly. 

"Now! Let me see, " he said musingly. "We had agreed that it would bebest never to meet again, that to keep the memory of that night fresh inour minds, a souvenir for old age, it were wisest to part then. Well, wecan keep the memory of it for our old age; it will be a little secretbetween us, and we shall talk it over on just such nights as this. "

"Isn't this oak the most beautiful you have ever seen?" she remarked, looking up at the great leafy arms above her head. 

"The most beautiful in all the world;" but he was not looking at theoak. 

"Think of it! It's many centuries old. Empires and kingdoms have risenand vanished. It was here when Michelangelo and Raphael and Titian wereragamuffins in the populous streets; it was leafing when Petrarchindited pages to his Laura; when Dante gazed melancholily upon hisBeatrice--Oh, what a little time we have!"

"Then let us make the most of it, " he said. 

He reached for her hand, which lay upon the cover; but, without apparentnotice of his movement, she drew back her hand. 

"I have waited patiently for weeks. "

She faced him with an enigmatical smile, lighted a match, blew it out, and drew a line across the center of the table. 

He laughed. "What, again?"

"Observe. "

"Why, there is a break in it!" eagerly and joyously. 

She leaned over. "So there is;" but there was no surprise in her voice. 

"Is it possible for me to come through?"

"There is one way. "

"Put the caskets before me, Portia; I shall not be less wise thanBassanio. "

She touched her lips with the knuckle of a finger, in a mood reflective. "A camel and the needle's eye. "

"That referred to the rich man. All the world loves a lover, even thesolemn old prophets. "

"Are you sure?" a return of the old malice. 

As a rejoinder he smoothed out the telegram she had sent to him. "Whydid you send this to me?"

Her lips had no answer ready; and who can read a woman's heart?

"There can be but one reason, " he pursued. 

"Friendship. "

There was a swish of petticoats, and she was standing at the side of herchair. The beginning of the night was cool, but the fire of the world'sdesire burned in her cheeks, and she was afraid. She stepped to therailing, faced the purpling mountains, lifted her chin, and sang _DieZauberflöte_. And Hillard dared not touch her till the last note wasgone. She felt his nearness, however, as surely as if he had in facttouched her. She tried to sing again, but this time no sound issued fromher throat. There was something intangibly hypnotic in his gaze, forpresently, without will, she turned and tried to look coldly into hiseyes. 

"I did not come here because of friendship, " he said. "Only one thingbrought me--love and the hope of love. "

She stared at him, her hand at her throat. 

"Love and the hope of love, " he repeated. Then he took her in his armssuddenly, hungrily, even roughly. "You are mine, mine; and nothing inthe world shall take you from my arms again. Sonia?"

"Don't!" she cried breathlessly. "He is looking. "

"It is only a waiter; he doesn't count. Friendship?" He laughed. 

"Please!" still struggling. 

"Not till you tell me why you sent that telegram. "

She pressed her palms against him and stood away. She looked bravelyinto his eyes now. 

[Illustration: "Take me, and oh! be good and kind to me"]

"I sent it because I wanted you, because I am tired of lying to myheart, because I have a right to be happy, because--because I love you!Take me, and oh! be good and kind to me, for I have been very lonely andunhappy. . . . Kiss me!" with a touch of the old imperiousness. 

 * * * * *

The rim of the early moon shouldered above the frowning death-mask ofNapoleon, the huge salmon-tinted mountain on the far side of the Lecco. In the villages the day-sounds had given way to the more peaceful voicesof the night. They could hear the occasional light laughter of thegardeners on the second terrace; the bark of a dog in the hills; fromthe house of the silk-weaver came the tinkle of a guitar. In the houseson the hill opposite and in the villages below the first lights ofevening began to glimmer, now here, now there, like fireflies becomestationary. 

"See Naples and die, " she whispered, "but the spirit will come toBellaggio. "

THE END